Back to the Beginning
by loveadubdub
Summary: With the war finished, the future seems nothing but bright. Of course, sometimes unexpected events change the future forever. When this happens, it's best to go back to the beginning.
1. Magazine Mayhem

**BACK TO THE BEGINNING**

**Chapter 1**

**MAGAZINE MAYHEM**

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Ginny loved flying.

She was fairly certain that she would rank it number one on the list of her favorite things. She loved the way the wind felt as it smacked her in the face, and she loved feeling it whip through her hair. It was nothing new, of course, as she'd loved it for nearly as long as she could remember. As the youngest and only girl in a family of seven, she rarely found herself asked to join in impromptu two-aside Quidditch matches in the backyard, so she learned at an early age to take matters into her own hands. She acquired a habit of sneaking out of her house in the middle of the night and stealing her older brothers' brooms for the outside shed. The midnight self-taught lessons were the beginning of a life-long love affair.

Flying, to her, was the most immediate and powerful calming mechanism in the world. She was aware that most people preferred bubble baths or reading or tea or even sex as means of release. She enjoyed those things, too- well, she wasn't too particularly fond of reading- but none of those things made her feel the way that flying did. Flying was like _breathing _to her, so it was lucky that she was able to make a career of it.

As a child, she'd never really had many plans beyond being a professional Quidditch player, so she considered herself extremely fortunate to have actually found the means to make it a reality. Playing Quidditch was the answer to everything. It made every other part of her life seem that much better because she was able to do something she really, truly _loved. _Of course, it came with a fair set of downs to accompany the many ups.

One of the most obvious of the downs was the fact that she was forced to spend several hours of every day in very close proximity with six other women. She didn't dislike her teammates. She actually liked them quite a lot. But they were all women, and that much estrogen in any situation was often too much. Sometimes she felt like ripping her hair out, or better yet ripping out all of _their _hair. She couldn't help but think that her low tolerance of females came from growing up with six older brothers, so she blamed them for her occasional annoyance.

She was the youngest member of her team, and she was also, unfortunately, the center of much of their teasing and harassing. She tried to take it all in stride and simply count it as their form of acceptance. If they hated her, she reasoned, they would simply ignore her. She knew that they loved her, but it still annoyed her.

Especially when they started bringing up her love life.

Her love life was… well, _public. _She couldn't really think of a better way to describe it. It seemed almost as if she was having a love affair with newspapers and cameras sometimes. She read about details of her love life that even _she _didn't know about. The number of times she'd been pregnant or secretly engaged or caught up in a sordid affair were almost too many to count- at least according to the papers. They _loved _writing about her, but they were rarely friendly.

So it was no surprise to her at all really when she walked into the changing room after training and saw three of her teammates already back and waiting for her. She could tell from the smirks on their faces that they had brand new ammunition to use against her, and she didn't even want to know what they had.

Of course, what she wanted and what she got were often two very different things.

"So, Ginny." Mary Langley smiled at her sweetly and then held up what appeared to be the latest issue of _Witch Weekly. _"Your boyfriend is the World's Most Eligible Bachelor for the fourth year in a row. Did you know?"

The glare that she got in return lets Mary know that Ginny was _well _aware of the fact that her boyfriend was the so-called World's Most Eligible Bachelor. She was used to it, of course, as it _was _the fourth year in a row. But that still didn't make her feel any better about it. She didn't know how anyone in the world would be happy reading an article like that, but she just gritted the back of her teeth and forced on a fake smile.

"Well, better to be the Most Eligible than to be nonexistent, right?"

The other girls laughed, though Ginny wondered if she was perhaps hitting a low blow. Mary, after all, had broken up with her own boyfriend just three weeks before in what was apparently a very messy breakup. She'd since spent her time being bitter and even sometimes rather hateful, but Ginny felt it was only fair to counter one "good-natured teasing" with another.

She didn't take much longer getting changed and ready for home. She was tired, and the training session had left her longing for her bed. There were blisters on her hands, and her hair was soaked with sweat. She was positive that she probably looked as wiped as she felt, and she told the girls goodbye quickly and Apparated straight home.

She didn't, however, expect the visitor.

Hermione was in the kitchen with her head under the counter. She appeared to be reorganizing the cupboards. Ginny stood silently for a few moments and watched her until she finally said, "What the hell are you doing?"

Hermione looked up with a slightly surprised look on her face as if she hadn't heard the popping noise of the Apparation seconds before. She pushed some hair out of her face and calmly said, "I'm moving in here," before ducking her head again and going back to her project. "And your cupboards are a mess."

Ginny let a sarcastic sort of laugh out and completely ignored the final part of that statement. "No, you're not."

"Yes, I am," Hermione said seriously. "I have nowhere else to go."

"Um, go home."

A loud sigh of exasperation was her answer, and she watched with amusement as Hermione once again pulled her head out of the cupboard and finally stood up. "I can't go home."

"And why not?"

There was a long pause until Hermione finally couldn't hold it in any longer. "Because I hate your stupid brother!"

There.

"Hate is a strong word, Hermione," she said with mock seriousness.

"Fine," Hermione snapped. "Loathe… detest… despise… abhor…"

"Okay, I didn't ask for a thesaurus."

Hermione glared at her.

Ginny tried and failed at hiding her smirk, which only served to make the incredulous look on Hermione's that much worse. To appease her, she tried to look as concerned as possible.

"Okay, what did he do?"

"Oh, I don't know. He was _born_ maybe?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Well, take that up with my parents, okay?"

"He's just so _infuriating!" _Hermione let out a little growl of frustration and then dropped back down to the cupboards.

"Oh, my god, stop touching things," Ginny said, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her back to a standing position. Hermione looked absolutely furious, which was, admittedly, a tad bit amusing. "Okay, now tell me what happened."

Hermione looked completely flustered, and her face was tinged red. "It's as if he has no common sense whatsoever!"

"And you say that as if you just met him yesterday…"

It was very obvious from the look on Hermione's face that she was well-aware that she'd been cornered and had no real defense to that statement. It infuriated her, of course, as she hated being proved wrong. But what could she say? It was the truth. She'd known him for more than half her life, so it wasn't as if his lack of intelligence was something that should come as a surprise.

Ron and Hermione had drama every day. Every single day, there was always _something. _It was Ginny's personal opinion that they both secretly enjoyed it. It was, she imagined, their own preferred type of foreplay- after all, they'd perfected it for years before they ever even got together. She was fairly certain that they simply didn't _know _any different.

Which was why it was so easy for her grab the strainer from Hermione's hand, throw it back in the cupboard, and kick the door shut with her foot. "You're not staying here."

"Then what am I supposed to do?" Hermione demanded, narrowing her eyes slightly and crossing her arms tightly over her chest.

Ginny reached over and put an arm over her shoulders, steering her out of the kitchen. "Go home, make up with my brother, live happily ever after…"

"You just don't understand. You don't know what it's like to be with someone who does things on purpose just to drive you insane!"

Ginny sighed and shook her head. "It could be a lot worse," she said seriously. "You could be dating the _World's Most Eligible Bachelor_."

She watched as Hermione's face wrinkled up a bit and then finally resolved. "Yeah, I heard about that…"

"Yeah," Ginny said flatly. "So… Yeah, it could be worse."

"I saw Harry," Hermione piped up. "Just a little while ago. If it makes you feel any better, he looked a bit like crap, not too most eligible bachelor-like."

"Oh, yeah," Ginny said sarcastically, breaking away and moving into the sitting room where she headed straight for the sofa and fell gracelessly onto her back, kicking her feet over the edge. "Hearing someone say my boyfriend looks like crap makes me feel _loads _better."

She didn't need to look over, she could practically _hear _Hermione rolling her eyes. "I didn't say he looks like crap. Okay, well, I _said_ that, I suppose, but you know what I mean. He just looks terribly exhausted and tired. He doesn't look like the ideal Most Eligible Bachelor type."

Ginny rolled her own eyes and started playing with her hair, which was still damp with sweat. She wasn't _overly _bothered by the magazine, as she was quite used to that sort of thing. The main thing that bothered her was that those magazines never mentioned her unless it was in some sort of negative light, as if she was just some common girl he met at a party and decided to take home.

They'd been serious for a really long time, straight from the start. He'd never done anything, to the best of her knowledge, to give any indication whatsoever that he was interested in the idealistic "bachelor" lifestyle that newspapers and magazines always seemed to place him in. Still, though, she was learning to ignore it- at least to the best of her ability. She no longer cared as much as she used to, but there were still times when it annoyed her.

It didn't help matters that she realized she was seeing less and less of Harry all the time. It wasn't either of their faults, of course, but they both seemed to be growing increasingly busier. He was just a couple of years out of Auror training, so he was stuck on the ungodliest of shifts. He often worked all night, and she was beginning to think that they were never even awake during the same hours. Still, though, she _did _see him. It wasn't as if she went weeks in between visits- she saw him at least three times a week, which was enough to keep her relatively satisfied.

Their careers were the main factor in them not living together. They'd been dating for years, but they hadn't made _that _step yet, whereas Ron and Hermione had jumped straight into it right at the start. They were both in London, though, so it was easier. Harry didn't want to move all the way to Wales when he still had to spend so much time in London. Ginny didn't see the huge deal actually, considering the fact that Apparation made the commute quick and relatively painless. However, he said the same thing about her, and they found themselves unable to compromise on the subject. It was okay, though. She didn't feel as though she actually _needed _to live with her boyfriend. She was well able to survive on her own and pay her own bills, so it wasn't as if she needed extra income. And as she saw him enough to take care of most of her other needs, she didn't really see the point in moving in together right now.

But still, "enough" was turning into less and less all the time…

"Do you know if he's working tomorrow night?" Ginny asked, pushing herself up to her elbows and looking over the armrest of the sofa to the chair where Hermione had recently seated herself.

"I'm not sure. I just saw him for a few minutes, so I didn't really get a chance to talk to him much."

"Oh."

She let herself fall back to the cushions and stared up at the ceiling. She chewed on her lip for a few seconds, and then realized that she still didn't know what had spurned the latest meltdown between Ron and Hermione. It didn't matter, she supposed, as this fight would be just like all the other million that they had every week and end up with them perfectly happy again. There was no point in humoring them about it, and Ginny was positive that those two would continue shouting at each other until the day one of them finally dropped dead.

"You've got a match this weekend, right?" Hermione asked in what was obviously an attempt at a subject change.

"Yeah, against Appleby. That shouldn't be difficult …" She smiled to herself, feeling instantly better at the prospect of slaughtering another team on the Quidditch pitch. It was especially always fun to beat up the boys- another result, she figured, of growing up tortured by six older brothers.

"I'll try to make sure we're there," Hermione said, stretching a bit as she stood up. "If I'm speaking to your brother by then," she added as an afterthought.

Ginny rolled her eyes and lifted one hand in a wave before Hermione Disapparated. She should get up and take a shower, as she was positive that she probably smelled horrible, but she felt as if she was too tired to move at the moment. She wanted to lie there for the rest of forever and not move. Still, though, she knew that that was entirely impossible, as there was loads that needed to be done. She hated to admit it, but Hermione was right about her cupboards being a mess. The rest of her flat could do with a fair bit of cleaning as well. Her mother would probably have a heart attack if she came in and saw the mess of clothes on her bedroom floor. Still, though, she wasn't too particularly motivated to start cleaning, but she forced herself into a sitting position and finally stood up anyway.

Her mail was sitting untouched by the slot, and she stared at the stack, wondering if she'd forgot to pick it up for a few days, as she was positive that one owl couldn't carry that much at one time. She tried to remember if she'd looked it through it yesterday, but remembering what she had for lunch was difficult, so recalling mail from yesterday proved pointless. She bent down to pick up the stack and took it back to the kitchen and poured herself a large glass of juice before sitting down at the table. She thumbed through the mail mindlessly, not really seeing anything that particularly interested her. There were a few bills, a letter from her mum, a couple of pieces of fan (or hate) mail, though the majority went to the club… and, of course, the latest issue of _Witch Weekly._

Harry's picture stared up at her from the cover, smiling and blinking. She didn't know where the picture had been taken, as it was one that she'd never seen before. He looked happy, though, so she figured that it must have been a randomly snuck photo because he rarely looked anything but shy and uncomfortable in most public shots. She thumbed through the magazine until she came to the article.

_The Boy Who Lived has grown into The Man Who Charms._

_Harry Potter is one of the Wizarding World's most recognizable faces. Having grown up in the spotlight, he is no stranger to fame and adoration, and as he matures, he is learning how to use his natural talents of grace and charm. At twenty-three, he is already one of the most accomplished wizards of all time, and his future only looks even brighter._

_As one of the newest British Aurors, he is said to be spreading his wide-knowledge of fighting the Dark Arts to his fellow co-workers, even teaching some of the most senior Aurors a few things. He is quite popular amongst his co-workers, all of whom have nothing but nice things to say about him. One source even describes him as "one of the most professional and gracious men you'll ever meet. He's definitely focused and eager to help."_

_But it isn't just his professional life that is taking off. Harry Potter, as one of the Wizarding World's most famous people, is also one of the most sought after _personally. _With his striking good looks and charming sense of grace, it's no wonder that women everywhere are infatuated with him. He is followed by admirers nearly everywhere he goes, but he takes it all in stride, enjoying the attention of the female population._

_Though there are, of course, rumors of his personal relationships, he has made nothing official and is still enjoying his bachelorhood. As celebrity expert Michel Marcs says, "Harry Potter draws in the attention of thousands of women all over the world, but he manages to keep a low-key profile because he stays busy with his career. He is young, famous, and rich, so it's obvious why so many people are drawn to him. His private life is, unbelievably, relatively private, and because he is so focused on his career, he manages to maintain that air of mystery that so many women are attracted to."_

_And don't let his rumored relationship with Quidditch player Ginny Weasley fool you. Potter is still very much a single man and is rarely seen in public with Weasley or with any particular romantic company, in fact, as he chooses to spend most of his free-time with his friends. Though they have been rumored to be dating for years, there is very little evidence to support the fact that their relationship is serious._

_Marcs says, "It's very possible that Potter may be drawn to the novelty that younger women often hold for men. He may very well enjoy her company on occasion, but there is nothing to suggest that they have anything more than a casual relationship."_

_Whatever his future holds, one thing is for certain. Potter is, and will likely remain, the object of many women's affection. With a list of accomplishment most people cannot hope to fulfill in a lifetime, this young man has already secured his place in history. With those who know him amazed at his demeanor and charm, it only stands to reason that he will one day make a woman very happy. For now, though, we hope he enjoys his bachelorhood and takes advantage of everything that comes with it._

There was more, but Ginny stopped reading.

The article was ridiculous and seemed to be nothing but one big contradiction of itself. It didn't even bother her that it portrayed her relationship with Harry as basically nonexistent and make-believe- plenty of magazines did that. Harry had never given any indication whatsoever that he was anything but serious about her and would flat out say as much on the rare occasions that he gave interviews. But it wouldn't matter if he shouted it from the rooftops or told every newspaper and magazine in the country, they would still refuse to believe it and print what they wanted.

But no. The thing that bothered her about the article was that it was so obviously written by someone who had no knowledge of Harry whatsoever. To say that he _enjoyed _the attention was practically the stupidest thing in the world. Harry had never _enjoyed _being the center of attention. He may have grown more _accustomed _to it, but he certainly did not, nor had he ever, _enjoyed _it. He was not someone who boasted of their fame or tried to do things to get media attention. It came to him on its own. He just accepted it more now, so he was better able to handle it.

And seriously. _The novelty of younger women? _She wasn't even an entire year younger than him! That was the most ludicrous thing she'd ever read in her life. Who wrote this rubbish? She pitched the magazine across the kitchen and landed it straight in the bin- her Chaser skills quite top notch. She told herself not to be bothered by it, that it was all a load of shit. Letting stupid articles like that get to her would only make her unhappy, and she wasn't willing to be unhappy, not when most everything she wanted was sitting right in front of her.

She was lucky, she knew, to have so many of the things she wanted. Her family was healthy and happy. She had amazing friends. She had the career she'd always dreamed of. And she was in love.

Things were very close to perfect, and she certainly wasn't going to let some stupid little magazine article upset her. It wasn't worth it, and she had too many good things in her life to worry about the ridiculous ones.

And anyway, she thought smugly as she stood up and tossed her glass into the sink, all the "thousands of women" in the world who were drawn to Harry Potter could look all they wanted.

She was the only one who got to touch.

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A/N: And now we're back for another haul! For anyone who doesn't know, this is a prequel to my other stories, but it's absolutely not necessary to read the other ones first. For those who have read the other ones, maybe this will serve to better explain some of the subsequent events. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this one, and please let me know what you think!

Oh, and I know that this chapter focused mainly on Ginny and Harry's relationship, but trust me, there will be just as much Ron/Hermione.


	2. Hopes and HouseElves

**BACK TO THE BEGINNING**

**Chapter 2**

**HOPES AND HOUSE-ELVES**

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Hermione had never really considered a career at the Ministry.

It suited her, she supposed, but it had rarely crossed her mind during the last few years of school. Career planning had been an important part of their curriculum, but it had also been one of the most difficult parts. There were plenty of options, as she was quite qualified for any number of jobs. She thought about becoming a Healer, thought about teaching, even briefly thought about joining the Aurors. But Healing never felt like a good fit, teaching would keep her at Hogwarts when she felt the need to branch out, and she'd had enough of the Dark Arts to last a lifetime, so the Aurors didn't really appeal to her.

The Ministry, she supposed, was a good fit, as she was really best suited for a desk job. Still, though, she'd spent so long equating the Ministry to corruption that it was difficult for her to separate the two, even after Kingsley came into office and started making significant changes. It was ridiculous really, as she _still _couldn't shake the feeling of corruption, even after spending the past four years working there. She was just paranoid, she supposed, as there was absolutely no evidence whatsoever that anything unprofessional was going on.

She liked her job. It suited her. She was part of a five person team in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and she considered them to be highly effective. It wasn't one of the most well-known or, she'd learned, well-respected departments, but she chose not to care about that. They were making a real difference and doing something of real significance, and she wouldn't trade it for anything.

She'd been offered other positions in other departments. She'd even been offered a job in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement straight out of Hogwarts, but she'd turned it down. She'd turned down all their subsequent offers, too, as well as the various other offers that had come in from other departments. They were mostly all higher-paying jobs with higher titles and more "respect," but she was content where she was. She was helping to _change _things. She felt as if she was really helping to be a voice for all sorts of magical creatures who had never had a real voice before. She was helping to improve their lives and make things fairer for them.

And _that _made her happy.

Still, though, more money would be helpful. She struggle a bit just to make ends meet sometimes. She'd never considered that sort of life before, as growing up, she'd always had plenty of money. She wasn't _rich, _but her parents were well-paid, and they always had nice things. She went to a good school, they had a nice house, they spent holidays in the South of France… Her life now, though, was certainly not like that.

The flat she lived in was so small that she often wondered who had ever thought to design something so tiny. Sharing it with someone else only served to make it feel that much smaller, but it was, she'd discovered, the largest thing in London that she could afford. She'd never realized how expensive the city was until she started paying her own way. It helped, though, to share it because that also meant sharing the bills. There was no way she could ever have afforded to live in the city on her own.

Ron worked for George and had done for the past five years. He made okay money- more than she did- but it still wasn't a ton. He could have got more, but he was funny about things like that and insisted that making more than he did would be taking charity. Hermione didn't understand the logic, as he seemed to do just as much as George did, but he was adamant about it. He wasn't, he insisted, an owner and getting owner's salary would leave him owing something he didn't want to owe. So Hermione left it alone and never, ever mentioned it.

They weren't _poor. _They could afford their rent, afford food and clothes, and even sometimes had a bit left over for something fun. But that was about it. They didn't have anything saved, and there were certainly no French holidays. It was a lot different from the life she was used to, and it was certainly nowhere near as posh or glamorous as Harry or Ginny's lives had turned out to be. But that was okay. She was content. The tiny little flat was all theirs, and everything they had was well-earned and bought with hard work. Thinking about that always made her feel better. It was a very grown-up outlook, and she was confident that if they continued to work hard, they'd eventually have more.

But Ron was more bothered about it than she was.

She figured it was some deep set, testosterone-driven, male notion that he was supposed to take care of her and give her loads of really nice things or something. It didn't matter that she told him all the time that she didn't want any of that and that she had everything she needed. He still felt like it was his gender-given duty to make sure that she had more. But it was more than that, too. He'd always been sensitive about money, never having had much growing up. Whereas her savings had been depleted during the final year of the war while they were traveling and looking for Horcruxes, he'd never had any to begin with. It made him feel somehow less than he was, and there was nothing she could say to get him off of it. His sensitivity was part of the reason why he refused to take more money from George, despite the fact that he pretty much ran the entire store.

Hermione said nothing, though. It was a touchy subject and one certain way to cause an argument- a _serious _argument. He would get embarrassed and, in turn, angry. Then he would shout at her that he was sorry he wasn't rich and that maybe she'd be happier if she found someone better suited to her class or some ridiculous bollocks like that. She would, of course, get angry as well and shout back that if he thought she was really that shallow then maybe he didn't know her at all. And then they wouldn't speak to each other for two days. It was all far too easy to predict, and she was in no hurry to hear it. So she never mentioned it.

Weasley Wizarding Wheezes was extremely successful and nearly always busy. The shop was already crowded by noon when she pushed open the front door and walked in. There were tons of small children running about with their parents chasing close behind them. It was March, so all the school-aged children were away, but there were still plenty of young kids and even plenty of adults who enjoyed the store and its products. WWWs never suffered from the "down season" that a lot of the businesses in Diagon Alley did, though Hermione wished they did as she pushed her way through the crowd to the back of the shop.

Ron was at the counter explaining the usage of an Invisibility Hat to a little boy and his mum. He caught sight of her and smiled at her before demonstrating the product by dropping one of the hats onto the boy. He disappeared for a few seconds before Ron lifted it back off. The kid was highly entertained and looked up at his mum imploringly. She gave in, of course, and Hermione waited until the sale was completed. Then she joined him at the counter.

"Can you go to lunch now?"

"Yeah, I think so. Give me just a second." He glanced around and spotted one of the girls who worked in the store, waving her over to care of the counter. She took over, and Ron slipped out from behind the desk, and Hermione followed him into the back office.

"Work is _horrid," _she said seriously as she started unpacking the lunch. They nearly always took their lunches together, but they rarely went out. It was much cheaper to eat whatever they had in the kitchen at home. "There's so much to do, I don't think I'll be done for ten years."

It was a bit of an exaggeration, but not much. Her desk was piled a foot deep in paperwork, and her head hurt just thinking of it.

"So I take it you'll be working late again?" he asked, unwrapping the sandwiches she'd packed and taking a bite out of one. She could tell by the look on his face that he wasn't happy with the prospect, so she tried to soften the blow a bit.

"Not _too _late," she promised. "But I don't think there's anyway I can get everything finished by six… I'll try, though," she added, watching as he nodded listlessly. He looked tired and even, perhaps, a bit ill. "Are you alright?" she asked, pushing back his hair to put a hand to his forehead and check for a temperature.

She felt the weight of his head fall forward until it rested completely in her hand. "I'm just tired," he mumbled, but she could tell by the way she was left supporting his head that he was a bit more than just tired.

He, too, had been working long hours. He was managing the store by himself now, as George was off work for a month with Angelina and the new baby. Baby Fred was born just a few weeks ago, and George had all but disappeared from the shop for the time being. This left Ron in charge of everything, and even with the help of the shop girls, it was still a difficult task. He was exhausted, and Hermione felt bad for complaining about her own workload when she knew he was stressed over being fully responsible for the store.

"You want to go to Quidditch on Saturday?" she asked, pushing his head back up and reaching for her own sandwich. "The Harpies are playing the Arrows." The last part was completely unnecessary, as he was well-aware of the Quidditch schedule. It was the one thing in the world he'd never had any trouble remembering. Still, it made _her _feel more knowledgeable to quote it.

Ron frowned and went back to his lunch. "I want to, but I don't know if I can. Alice is already off that day, and I haven't got anyone to cover her."

"Okay. I just told Ginny I'd see."

"When George gets back, things'll be easier," he said, finishing off the first sandwich and reaching for a second. He could eat more than any person she'd ever met in her life, and though she'd thought his appetite might calm down a bit after he finished growing, it only seemed to get bigger and bigger.

"How's the baby doing?"

"He's good. I talked to George yesterday, and he said that he's still doing nothing besides sleeping and shitting."

She rolled her eyes at the lovely description but said nothing. It was a little bit strange for there to be a new Fred Weasley in the world, and most everyone just called him "the baby" so far. She figured that they'd all start calling him by his name eventually, but right now, it was just a little weird. He was the first boy born in the family so far, which was strange because the Weasleys had obviously previously been famous for producing only males. There were four girls already, though, before this boy was born.

Sometimes it was weird to think about how much had changed in six years. Six years by itself didn't sound like that long, but it was like the whole world had changed in those years. Six years ago, the first Fred was alive and well. Now he was dead, and there was a tiny newborn infant bearing his name. Five years ago, there were no small children or babies running about, and now there were four girls, a new boy, and, of course, Teddy to watch. Things were certainly different now, but they were, for the most part, better.

"Maybe we can go see them this weekend if we have time," she suggested, speaking of George and Angelina. She'd only seen the baby a few times and was eager to see how much he'd already grown in just a few short weeks.

Ron nodded, still looking completely exhausted. "Yeah. I'm sure they won't care."

"And your dad said we need to come to lunch on Sunday…"

She hesitated with the last part because she knew how annoyed Ron sometimes got with being forced over for Sunday lunch or dinner. She imagined that he should be quite happy with the invitations, as he rarely got a decent meal otherwise. When they'd first started living together, he'd loved to tell her how rubbish her cooking was, and it had taken roughly a week for her to finally get fed up, throw a spoon at his head, and shout at him to do it himself. He had- just to prove a point- but he wasn't much better than she was. Truthfully, they were both awful, but they'd learned to live off of simple, easily-prepared meals. He still complained, though, so she could never understand his issue with Sunday Burrow visits.

Quite a bit of it, though, had to do with the fact that his mother seemed to love dropping hints that they needed to stop "living that way." It was a conversation they'd been hearing for years, and while it sometimes annoyed Hermione as well, she'd learned to ignore it for the most part. Ron, though, found it more difficult to ignore the nagging, probably because it was more often directed at him. Mrs. Weasley usually spared her the lecture and instead chose to tell her son, knowing perfectly well that she would find out that way. "Living that way" meant that they needed to stop shacking up and "legitimize" their relationship. In other words, she wanted them to get married.

Hermione had no immediate issues with marriage. She planned on being married someday, and she was positive that Ron did, too. However, she wasn't sure what the rush was or why they needed a ceremony and a piece of paper to "legitimize" anything. She was happy with their relationship, and when the time came to take the next step, they would. But she couldn't see what the hurry was, nor could she see what was so wrong with their current living arrangement. That was why she chose to simply block that lecture out. Ron, though, found it more difficult and often grew frustrated and angry with his mother, sometimes even ending up in a row about it. There had been a full two months when they hadn't spoken because he said he was sick of her still trying to run his life and she said that perhaps if he grew up and acted more like an adult, she wouldn't feel the need to interfere. It was nearly identical to any of the thousands of arguments that Hermione herself had with Ron, but they only ever stayed mad at each other for a day or two tops- and usually for much less. However, he seemed to take that particular row much more seriously with his mum and had completely cut off all communication with her for weeks until finally Hermione had _forced_ him to put an end to it.

And she wouldn't lie. There were plenty of times when she felt like telling his mother exactly where to shove it, but she never did and always chose instead to bite her tongue and change the subject. She was thankful that her own parents did not share the same old-fashioned views as Ron's. They didn't have the same qualms with the living situation, and there had never been an issue about it there. So she was glad for that. It made things at least a bit easier. She knew that Mrs. Weasley simply couldn't understand the hesitation, especially considering the fact that none of her other kids seemed to have the same issues- except Ginny, of course, but Mrs. Weasley was absolutely in mental denial if she thought for one second that just because Ginny and Harry weren't living together that they weren't getting up to all sorts of improper things and hadn't been for a very long time. But Bill, Percy, and even George had all got married within a two year time period of the start of their relationships. Not that there was anything wrong with that, but Hermione couldn't help but feel that was a bit quick. There was nothing wrong with taking your time, either. And they were, after all, adults now- they didn't have to listen to anyone else, so it was best just to ignore unwanted advice.

She'd told Ron this a million times, but all of that knowledge didn't stop the scowl from still covering his face when she announced his father's invitation.

"Do we have to?" he asked, and she raised an eyebrow at the whining tone. He rolled his eyes and took a bite bitterly from the sandwich. "We aren't staying long," he said firmly.

"Okay," she said, compromising. See? They were capable of it, even if they rarely chose to exercise that ability. "I already told him we'd be there anyway," she added quickly.

The look on his face was rather amusing. He stared at her as if he couldn't believe she was such a traitor or something. She forced herself not to laugh.

"I didn't want to hurt his feelings!" she defended, and it was okay because it was the truth. Mr. Weasley never lectured them the way his wife did, and she felt bad for him having to stay stuck in the middle of it. And seeing as how she passed him at least five times a day at the Ministry, it was impossible for her to simply avoid him.

Ron said nothing else about it, just continued to take snappy bites of his lunch and scowl at the table. He was such a stubborn child sometimes that it drove her insane. But she chose not to dwell on it. They only had an hour for lunch and would probably have even less than that at home before bed if they were both working late. She wasn't going to spend the rest of her lunch break arguing with him.

They spent the rest of lunch just talking about random things that were of little to no importance, and when they were finished eating, they packed up the leftovers and threw the trash away. She checked the clock and saw that there was just a few minutes left on her break, so she got up reluctantly and headed out of the back office back into the shop. She followed Ron over to the counter where he started counting the mid-morning till.

"I can come help on Saturday," she said, catching a glimpse of the salesgirl Alice and remembering that she was going to be off that day. "That way we might be able to get out earlier."

He looked up from the money and gave her a half-smile. "You don't have to."

"No, it's fine," she said honestly. "I haven't got anything else to do. Then when we're finished, we can go visit George."

He gave her a real smile and then nodded. "Okay."

They were interrupted by the appearance of a little boy who appeared to be about eight or nine. He was looking up at them nervously and then finally mumbled a request. "Can I have your autographs?"

Hermione smiled and nodded, reaching for the little book he was clutching and taking a quill from the desk. She signed her name and passed it over to Ron who quickly scribbled something down and handed it back to her. She gave it back to the little boy who still looked nervous and terrified. He mumbled a very quick thank you and then rushed back over to where his mum was waiting. She looked over and caught Hermione's eye and gave a grateful smile, which Hermione returned before turning back to Ron who was already counting again. They were used to the attention. Even though it had been several years since the war, they were still considered celebrities and were still asked for autographs from time to time, cameras still flashed in their faces when they were out in public, and they still read their names in the gossip columns of the newspapers.

"I have to go back," she said, frowning at the thought of returning to work and the mounds of paperwork currently covering her desk.

He looked up and nodded. She noted the obvious exhaustion apparent in his eyes, and she made a note to work on that.

"I'll let you know if I'm going to be late," she said, glancing at the clock over his head. "I'll try to hurry."

He nodded again and said, "Okay." Then he forced a smile on his face and added, "Try not to work too hard."

She rolled her eyes, wishing she knew _how _to not work too hard. It was ingrained in her DNA to overwork herself, and they both knew it. She'd tried and failed many times to cure herself of that flaw, but it was always pointless.

He laughed and shook his head. "I'll see you later," he said, leaning across the counter to kiss her. She let her lips linger there for just about five seconds.

When she made it back to the Ministry, the pile of paperwork covering her desk had grown even larger. She tried very hard to control the growl of frustration that built up in the back of her throat, but it escaped nonetheless. None of her teammates were around to hear it, though, so she didn't feel too embarrassed by it.

An envelope caught her attention. It was sitting in her chair, as someone had obviously placed it there to make sure that it did not get lost in the shuffle of forms and papers piled on her desk. She picked it up and opened it, pulling out a yellow sheet of parchment.

_Ms. H. Granger,_

_Your request for a Committee hearing has been granted. The proposed House-Elf Liberation Act will go to Committee this Tuesday, the twenty-fourth of March. Please report to the first floor conference room at 10 AM for a pre-hearing presentation. _

_Sincerely,_

_Leona Loring,_

_Senior Undersecretary for Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic_

Hermione couldn't even attempt to hide the wide smile that covered her face at the letter. This was what she'd been waiting on for four years. Since the moment she'd taken this job, she'd always had her eye set on one main goal, and this was it. She'd worked for literally more than a year preparing the proposal for the House-Elf Liberation Act, and she was finally seeing it start to pay off. Of course, nothing was set in stone yet, so she tried really hard not to get her hopes up. The Committee could shut her down in a heartbeat, and she knew plenty of the members didn't have two cares in the world for certain "lower" beings like House-Elves. But she was closer than she'd ever been, and that made all the difference in the world.

She eyed the mountain of work on her desk and then looked back at the letter in her hand. There was a pre-hearing presentation, and if she wanted this Act to have a chance in hell, she needed to make sure the presentation was perfect. She was supposed to be helping with one of the other proposals, but she really needed to make sure she aced the presentation. Surely someone else in her department could pick up her portion of the new proposal, they all knew how important the House-Elf Liberation Act was to her.

This was it. This could really be it!

She stared in disbelief at the letter in her hand. She hadn't really thought it even had a chance of making it to Committee, but Kingsley had approved it, which meant that it at least had a shot. If this really happened, it could change everything. She'd worked since she was just a kid to gain House-Elf rights, and now she had a real, legitimate opportunity to do something really worthwhile and improve their lives.

She was going to be home even later than she planned…

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A/N: Well, I figured I better put this up during the 5 minutes that this site actually likes me... It's given me nothing but trouble all weekend! Anyway, thanks to everyone who reviewed the first chapter- you know you guys are awesome!!


	3. The Price of Pleasure

**BACK TO THE BEGINNING**

**Chapter 3**

**THE PRICE OF PLEASURE**

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Ginny was really an amazing Quidditch player.

Harry had known this for years, of course. She'd been the best player on his team when they were younger, and she'd only got better since. She was the best player on her current team, too, and he wasn't even being biased. If she wasn't good, there's no way she could have made the starting roster straight away. The majority of pro-Quidditch players had to play on reserves for at least a couple of years before making the starting lineup, but Ginny was one of the rare few who had skipped that step altogether.

And it was because she was _good._

Her team was good, too. They were already shoo-ins for the playoffs, and there were still a couple of months left in the season. Their record had been great for the past few years and was even better this year. They were getting more and more press lately, too, which could possibly be attributed to Ginny herself. The media had a bit of a love affair with her, though it wasn't often very loving… That was, he knew, largely his own fault, though there was nothing he could think of to change it. But Ginny was tough, and she didn't let the stupidity of media coverage bother her or throw her off her game.

They were playing the Appleby Arrows and were already winning by forty points just twenty minutes into the match. Harry thought it was fantastic, and not just because he really hated the Arrows and everything about their smarmy little team of bastards. But it was great that the only all female team in the league could be ranked so high. And he liked to think a lot of it was because of Ginny, who he obviously had a bit of attachment to.

The only bad thing, though, was that whenever he attended a Quidditch match, more people seemed to pay attention to him than they did to the game. And he hated that. He only wanted to watch the match, and he hated being distracted by people coming up and asking for autographs or by people snapping pictures of him. It was rude, too, to the players, he thought, as they should be the main attraction at their own matches. But he didn't ask for any of it, and it wasn't really as if he could control it. That was his life. That's was the reality, and he was learning to live with it.

Still, he could do without the distractions.

He was signing an autograph for a little girl when Ginny apparently made an excellent play and scored. He missed it, and he hated that. He hated missing _any _of it really because he really loved the game, and he loved going to matches and watching the plays. And he loved watching _her _play. It made him miss playing himself, and it made him sentimental for the times when they'd played together on the same team. He honestly hadn't got to play with her that much, and he wished that he had a chance to do it all over again and really relish the times when he did. Now that he was out of school and in his career, there'd been more than one occasion when he just wished that he'd gone pro himself instead of joining the Aurors. As much as he felt like he was doing something important, there were plenty of times when he just wanted to do something he _loved. _Quidditch was the first thing he ever considered himself talented at, and it was still one of his favorite pastimes, though these days the pastime was spent from the side-lines and not from the pitch. But he always tried to not think like that. He liked his job. Even if it _wasn't _as entertaining as Ginny's.

Plus, if he'd gone pro, he would have ended up having to play against her, and he wasn't sure he could do that with a clear conscience. Not that she would ever even _think _about taking it easy on _him, _but that didn't mean he would be able to spare her the same considerations. So it was probably better like this. She got to play and be the Quidditch star. He got to come to matches for free and watch. He got to live out his passion vicariously through her and still do his duty of saving the world and that whole thing. Besides, after the war, no one would have accepted him wanting to do something as "inconsequential" as play Quidditch. He was supposed to fix what was broken and do his duty of repairing all the things that had been destroyed during the war. Everyone thought he was some great hero and expected him to live up to the title. As much as he didn't _want _to be a hero, he felt obligated to fulfill all their expectations, considering all the sacrifices that had been made on his behalf.

So really, it was all for the best.

The rest of the match went on, and he paid attention to everything. Ginny was playing the best she'd ever played, and it thrilled him to hear people cheer for her. She didn't seem too interested in the cheers, though, as her concentration was focused one-hundred percent on the match and defeating the Arrows. The Arrows weren't a bad team, and they'd had a fairly decent season so far, but they weren't as good as Holyhead.

The Harpies ended up winning 360 to 90, and Harry wasted no time at all in making his way down to the pitch to find Ginny and congratulate her. She was thrilled, of course, on her normal post-match high, and she squealed a little bit before wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him.

"I'm so glad you came!" she said excitedly.

He'd never missed a single match, something that was possible largely because he'd been on such an idiotic shift at work. Working overnight for the past few years had freed up his Saturday afternoons and made it possible for him to be at every one of her matches. He was worried that with the new shift, though, things might be more difficult. It had worked out, though, at least this time, and he found himself off for the entire day.

"Ron had to work," he said, grabbing her hand and walking with her back toward the changing rooms. "So Hermione stuck around to help him. She said to tell you they're sorry."

Ginny nodded and then shrugged. "It's alright," she said dismissively. "At least you're here."

"You were fantastic," he told her seriously. "The best one out there!"

She rolled her eyes but smiled widely. "Thank you. Even though I know you _have _to say that."

"But I'm serious," he told her honestly, and he was. "That was some of the best flying I've ever seen!"

"Well, lucky for you, you get to date a famous Quidditch star," she teased, and she laughed and leaned over to kiss him quickly on the cheek before pulling her hand away. "I'll just be a few minutes," she promised. "Press, and then we can go to the after-party!"

The "after-party," as she called it, was held in a pub just a few minutes away from the pitch. Her whole team was there, along with everyone they knew. It was the same after every home match- they all got dressed up, got together, got pissed, and stumbled home. Harry had been to plenty of these parties, as Ginny was quite fond of the post-match bonding crap that her team loved to take part in. He didn't complain, of course, because she had fun, and they weren't really all that bad. There were usually at least a few people around that he knew and could have a quick chat with while Ginny hung out with her mates.

Tonight was no different. She was off mingling, and he stood around and talked with some casual acquaintances that he'd come to know mostly through her team and the after-parties. He wished, of course, that some of his _real _friends were there, but he made do. He tried to focus his attention on the conversations at hand, but it was difficult because he continuously got distracted by the various drinks that kept appearing in his hands.

He was never great at handling alcohol. He didn't drink that much, and that was probably the main contributing factor to him not being able to hold it too well when he _did _drink. He wasn't one of those two sips and out kind of people, though. He could handle it up to a point, but he certainly wasn't able to drink a huge amount and still keep a clear head.

He tried very hard to pay attention to the conversations that were going on around him, but he felt himself more drawn to the drinks than he was to the people who he was chatting with. One guy who he'd met a few times before was attempting to tell him some story about a Quidditch match he saw once where the Seeker fell a hundred feet and got back on his broom to finish the match, only to get beat in the end. Harry felt that he was probably missing a bit of it because what he heard on his own was rather boring and not really enough for a full story. He tried to appear interested, but he wasn't truthfully, and he didn't know how to fix that without flat out lying.

Ginny was across the room laughing with some of her mates. She was still on the post-match high and still appeared as happy as he'd ever seen her. He loved seeing her that happy. It made him feel great that she had something she loved so much. Sometimes he worried that he overshadowed her unintentionally, and he worried that she might eventually come to resent that. So it was great that she had something she was so good at that was all hers. He couldn't take any credit for her Quidditch skills, as she came by them quite naturally, and even though every write-up she got in the papers inevitably mentioned him, the ones that focused on her playing at least gave credit where credit was due.

She didn't have the same confidence issues that her brother had, but Harry had been around Ron long enough to realize that certain resentments could grow out of nothingness, and he really didn't want that to happen with Ginny. She was amazing all in her own right, and he didn't want to take any of that away from her. He didn't want there to ever be a time when she was known simply as "Harry Potter's girlfriend" or even as "Harry Potter's wife," should the opportunity eventually arise- and he was positive that it would. Someday.

Almost as if she could read his mind, she came stumbling over to him. She grabbed his hand with both of her own and joined in the conversation, apparently having much more to offer than he did. He stood by and listened, more interested in the way her hair was falling against her neck than the actual words that were coming out of her or anyone else's mouth.

She was really beautiful. He knew that, of course, had known it forever pretty much. It still didn't keep him from being amazed by it from time to time. She'd changed after the match and had instantly gone from a rather dirty looking, roughed up Quidditch player to a glamorous, beautiful woman in a dress and heels. That was one of the best things about her- she was girly and fashionable on the outside but was one of the roughest, most foul-mouthed girls he'd ever met. It came with the territory of having six older brothers, of course, but it was crazy attractive.

Just as he wasn't all that capable of holding a ton of alcohol, Ginny, too, was rather shit at it. She was the type who got extremely amused when she was intoxicated, which usually manifested itself in a fit of giggles and nonsensical ramblings. Either that, or she got really, _really _forward. She always knew exactly what she wanted and was never, ever afraid to ask for it. Or rather demand it. This was, obviously, another extremely fascinating and _wonderful _trait of hers.

When she grew tired of the Quidditch talk, she tugged Harry away from the conversation and over towards a more deserted area by the corner. She smiled at him and reached up shove some hair away from his forehead. He could tell from the glazed look in her eye that she had already had more than enough to drink, as had he. She started at him and just smiled for a long while until she finally sighed contently.

"You're cute." She giggled as she turned her glass up and took a long drink from the liquid inside before dropping it onto the table beside her. He watched her and wondered if she really knew how attractive she was. It wasn't like he was recognizing this for the first time, as he'd considered her the prettiest girl he knew for a really long time now, but there was something about the heavy veil of alcohol that made her seem even that much more attractive.

"There are a lot of women here who want to steal you," she whispered in his ear, leaning fully against him until he had to back up against the wall just to keep them both standing. "They keep looking at you."

He glanced over her head and around the room. There _were _a few women here and there who were staring over at him. He was used to it, of course, but that didn't make him anymore comfortable with the situation. He knew that women liked him, though he wasn't sure what he had to offer any of them that was so spectacular. They were all just interested in him because of _what_ he was. He knew that, and that's why it didn't really bother him.

"Do you think they're pretty?" she asked slyly, wrapping both arms around his neck and moving her head until she was looking him straight in the eye. She was just a couple of inches shorter than him, so it wasn't difficult.

"I think they're hideous," he said with as much seriousness as he could muster.

Ginny laughed and rolled her eyes. "Good answer," she mumbled before moving in and kissing him pointedly. He loved kissing her, loved everything about it. She was so into _everything _that it sometimes blew his mind. Sometimes he thought she must have been put here on the earth for the sole purpose of driving him mad like this. Even drunk, she was an expert with her lips, and he immediately wanted to just throw her up against the wall and shag her senseless right then. He didn't, of course, because they were in public, and even if the great majority of the attendees were well intoxicated, he didn't think something like that would go unnoticed.

He hadn't seen her in nearly a week and a half, which was definitely a record. He was usually able to catch up with her at least a few times a week, but he'd started a swing shift at work recently, and it had thrown off their entire schedule. It had also left him particularly desperate for her. She didn't seem to be disapproving of his intentions, either, and, in fact, she seemed equally, if not _more, _anxious for him.

She moved between his legs and kissed him even deeper, letting him have access to every inch of her mouth. She tasted like alcohol- or maybe that was him, he was a bit too drunk to differentiate. It didn't matter anyway, he wasn't really focused on the way her mouth tasted. The arms that were wrapped around his neck pulled even tighter, and he felt one of her hands wrap tightly in his hair. She couldn't have been any closer physically, but that didn't stop her trying as she pressed herself flush against him. He didn't care if it was indecent or if there was an audience, and he didn't even try to control his hands from their natural instinct. He wanted to touch her _everywhere, _but he settled for letting them slide over her waist and over the curve of her waist and down further. One slid down to rest on her arse, and the other went even further, searching for the skin of her thigh underneath her dress. She twisted into him, driving him very nearly insane right there, and then she broke the kiss altogether and yanked her head back a few inches.

"Let's go home," she said breathlessly, and the fiery look in her eyes let him know that her mind was right in the same spot that his own was. She didn't have to ask twice. He nodded and reached down to the table where she'd dropped her glass minutes before. He finished off the last of it and then grabbed her hand as she pushed her way through the mess of people still crowding the room. People watched them leave, and some even whispered to each other. It wasn't surprising, nor was it even worth noticing.

She Summoned their coats, and then they hurried out to the front lawn. The air was cool, but the alcohol still left him feeling relatively warm. Ginny spun around and kissed him deeply once more before stepping back and pulling out her wand. "See you at home," she whispered, Disapparating on spot. He followed her within seconds, worried just a tiny bit about the possibility of splinching himself in his intoxicated state. The pros outweighed the cons, though, and he decided to chance it.

He found himself landing directly in her entryway, which was perfect. He even smiled to himself, pleased at his ability. He didn't have time to dwell on it, though, because Ginny attacked him a second later, pushing his coat off his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. She'd already divested herself of her own coat and seemed determined to do the same with the rest of her clothes as quickly as possible.

She kissed him again, this time even more roughly than she had at the party, and he no longer felt the need to hold back even the slightest bit. Her mouth was a blur of teeth and tongue and the lingering hint of alcohol, and her hands were all over him, tugging impatiently at the hem of his shirt, as her fingertips brushed the front of his stomach and made all of his senses come to life at once.

He started to protest when she pulled away suddenly, but he stopped himself as she reached for the bottom of her dress and pulled it over her head in one quick movement. Then she was standing there in nothing but her underwear, and he didn't even try to stop himself from staring. The thing about Ginny was that she was hot, _very _hot. He wasn't just saying that because she was his girlfriend or because she always let him shag her, he was saying it because it was true. As many women as there were who were infatuated with him, there were just as many blokes who would give their left ball for a chance to see her knickers. Did it bother him when she was ogled by wandering eyes? Truthfully, after all these years, he was rather used to it. She was quite popular even when they were kids at Hogwarts, so he was accustomed to watching other people watch her. He figured that if she could put up with it, he could as well, so he did his best not to let it bother him.

He didn't hold back, nor did she expect him to. His hands reached out for her and started wandering over every inch of skin they could find, which, given her current state of dress, was quite a lot. Her body was amazing, really honestly amazing. She was tall and slender, and she had those legs that most models dream of. There was nothing about her that he didn't find perfect, and judging from the way his hands were groping her of their own accord, he was fairly positive that his subconscious agreed with him.

She wasn't shy, she was quite the opposite. She seemed to be enjoying the way his hands were sliding all over her body, and she alternated quickly between kissing him roughly and using her own hands to work his shirt over his head and start tugging at the front of his jeans.

"Let's go," she whispered desperately, grabbing his belt loops and pulling him forward as she walked backwards down the corridor toward her bedroom.

He didn't have to be told twice, and he followed her willingly. She grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled him forward into a tight kiss just as they reached her bedroom door. Without even noticing what he was doing, much less controlling it, he pushed her forward until the back of her knees hit the bed and she fell. She laughed at little and reached up to pull him down along with her. He went eagerly and didn't protest at all when her hands started working the button and zip of his jeans. He let her push them down, and he kicked them off as he fell down completely on top of her.

Her skin was flushing with every single kiss he laid against her. His hands were everywhere, and he couldn't keep his mouth off of her, either. And everything else in the entire world fled from his mind except for the fact that she was right there practically naked underneath him. And he wanted her _so _badly. And it seemed entirely as if she was just as desperate for him. In fact, she was twisting beneath him in a way that made thinking clearly _very _difficult. She seemed eager to get straight to it, as she reached between them and started fumbling with the last layers of clothing separating them.

"Now," she said breathlessly, turning her head to kiss him so forcefully that he could barely even register any other thoughts. The only thought he _could _register was the fact that both of their wands were dropped somewhere in the entryway with their coats and that certain spells were necessities before any type of fun like this. He forced himself to pull out of the kiss and started to push himself up.

"What are you doing?" she asked, and she was so out of breath that her chest was heaving up and down. He got distracted by this and found himself staring for a few seconds until he finally remembered what he was doing.

"The wands," he said, swinging his head backwards in the direction of the entryway. "We need-"

She cut him off, though, shaking her head and reaching for him. "No, it's fine," she said quickly, pulling him back in for another kiss. "Don't worry about it."

"But what if-"

"Oh, shut _up," _she whispered, rolling him over until he was the one lying flat. Then she kissed him in a way that made him forget all about the wands and anything else having to do with being responsible. At that moment, he didn't care about anything else except for her, the way she was kissing him, and the way her hips were twisting right over him.

So he did as she said and shut up.

It'd be okay, right?

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A/N: Dundundun... Hahaha, I think we all know how this ends up... Thanks for the reviews, you guys make me smile all the time!


	4. Potatoes and Poo

**BACK TO THE BEGINNING**

**Chapter 4**

**POTATOES AND POO**

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It was mid-morning when he woke up.

He could tell without even glancing at the clock because the bedroom was filled with light much brighter than it normally was when he woke up for work. At first, he almost panicked, thinking he was late, but then he remembered that it was Sunday and his day off. Sleeping late was a once a week luxury, so he wouldn't fault himself for it.

He wasn't the only one sleeping in. Hermione was rolled onto her side and seemed to be nowhere near the point of waking. That was rare, as she was naturally an early riser. It was unusual for her to sleep in and even more unusual for him to wake up before her on any given morning. The clock read 11:42. It was almost noon. He was quite sure that she'd never in her life slept until noon, and he didn't fancy listening to her snap at him all day if he let her reach that milestone.

Pushing himself up onto his elbows, he looked over at her and watched her for a few moments. She was a sound sleeper, but not so heavy that her breathing pattern changed or anything. She was calm while she slept, rarely moving, never kicking or snoring or sleep-talking. She normally just lay there, breathing softly, and slept.

She was pretty. In fact, he thought she was beautiful. And it was never more apparent than when she was lying against the pillow, deep in sleep with her eyelids fluttering just barely against her cheeks. She would get annoyed if she knew how often he just stared at her while she was sleeping. She would tell him that it was creepy and unproductive and a load of other shit that only she would ever think up. Of course, she would secretly think it was sweet and love him for it, but she wouldn't admit it. She'd tell him it was border-line stalker and that his time would be better spent cleaning the flat or making breakfast. If he had time to stare at her, he had time to do something worthwhile.

He moved a hand to rest on to the top her of her head. Her hair was soft and tangled, and she unconsciously reached a hand of her own up to bat his away. He ignored her and just petted her hair for a second until her eyes finally fluttered open. She squinted up at him in the new light.

"Why're you awake?" she mumbled sleepily.

"It's a quarter of twelve."

Her eyes instantly went wide, and she pushed herself straight into a sitting position. "Are you joking?"

He pointed at the clock.

"Wonderful," she said bitterly, letting herself fall backwards again until her head hit the pillow roughly. "Why in the world didn't you wake me?"

He stifled a yawn, wondering why she was asking such a stupid question. "I just woke up. What time did you come to bed last night anyway?" He fell asleep rather late himself, and she definitely hadn't made it to bed by that time. She was working on a presentation for the SPEW crap she was doing now. It wasn't called SPEW anymore, of course, as she had some other name that didn't sound like a committee for projectile vomit, but it was still the same thing more or less. That being said, she'd been working on it since they were fourteen years old, so he didn't really see how she could have so much to do now.

She had her hands covering her eyes, shielding them from the light. "I don't know," she mumbled. "Four-thirty… Five?"

"Jesus, Hermione!"

"Well, I've got a lot to do!" she snapped, removing her hands from her eyes and shooting him a little glare. Then she wrinkled her forehead and sighed loudly. "I need to get up and get to work."

"We have to go to the Burrow," he reminded her, and the look on her face would make him laugh in a normal situation if he weren't terrified that she might hex him in her early-waking grumpiness.

"Crap," she muttered, glaring at the ceiling for a second before looking back at him. "I really need to work on this," she said, her tone much more gentle and even sort of coaxing. She was trying to sweet-talk him.

He wasn't falling for it.

"You're the one who said we'd go," he said firmly, refusing to budge on that one. There was _no _way she was going to abandon him and bail on family lunch when she'd been the one who'd accepted the invitation in the first place. If it were up to him, they wouldn't step foot anywhere near his mum, not when she had any sort of free time to nag them about their living situation anyway. Hermione was damn lucky that he was willing to go over there at all, so she sure as hell wasn't going to throw him to the wolves alone.

"Fine," she snapped hatefully, sitting back up and sending him a mean look. "But we're not staying long."

"Oh, damn," he said sarcastically to her back as she stood up. "I was really hoping that we could camp there for a week or so."

She grabbed a spare coat hanger on her way out of the bedroom and pitched it at him over her shoulder. He caught it easily and fell back into bed comfortably. She would take at least half an hour in the shower, and he could kip in the meantime.

By the time they were both ready, they were well late for lunch, and when they arrived at the Burrow, his mum was waiting for them with a look on her face that just screamed the fact that she was positive they'd been engaging in all sorts of filthy, mid-morning premarital sex. He knew he was possibly being a bit over-dramatic, but he couldn't deny the facts, and the facts were simple. His current living situation was the equivalent of taking a whore in a brothel- at least in his mother's eyes. Though, of course, she would never call Hermione a whore, and truthfully, she'd likely never _think _it, either.

She loved Hermione and had done for ages. Hermione, at least to his mum, was clearly the innocent in all this. She was the brilliant, responsible, damn near as perfect as you can _get _one. It was _he _who was to blame. He was the one forcing her into this life of sin and corruption because he was too immature or irresponsible or imbecilic to make an honest woman out of her. It couldn't possibly be because Hermione was perfectly happy with their situation and had no qualms about the way they lived or their lack of marriage. No, it was _definitely _because he was a complete degenerate pig.

He had no reason to be surprised. His mum had blamed him for everything ever since the moment he'd been born. His only saving grace as a child had been the twins because even she couldn't deny the fact that they were by far the most likely perpetrators in any and all devious situations. When they weren't around, though, she always turned the blame to him. Ginny could be standing over the cat covered in its hair with a pair of shaving shears in her hand, and _he _would be the one walloped for the cat's sudden baldness.

So he was not at all shocked that his mother chose to lay all the blame with him. He always made sure to pass the message to Hermione, though, and always secretly hoped that she'd one day get so pissed off that she'd snap and tell his mum to go fuck off or something, but the chances of that happening were extremely slim. For one, Hermione was exceedingly talented at keeping her temper intact with everyone but him, and for two, there was a better chance of the Cannons winning the championship than there was of Hermione ever telling _anyone _to go fuck off- except maybe him, she might tell him that… He made a mental note to try and get her to that point, it would be well amusing.

But the whole thing was rather ironic when he considered the fact that his mother would likely keel over and die if she knew _half _the things they'd got up to. And right here in her own house at that. She had no idea that everything she so strongly disapproved of now had started right here under her own roof. They'd spent nearly the entire first summer after the war locked in his bedroom doing all the things they'd never done before and more. And he wondered just how shocked his mum would be to know that it had been _Hermione _doing most of the pushing. She was the one hell-bent on corrupting them both in those early weeks. It had shocked him then- sometimes it _still _shocked him- but back then he had never expected her to be so forward. He'd imagined that she would be shy and timid and conservative and make everything between them go extremely slow. But to his surprise, she wasn't like that at all.

He couldn't blame her for it. He understood perfectly why she was so desperate to make things go as quickly as they could. He'd watched her almost die. He'd dodged death himself by mere inches on multiple occasions. Together, they'd seen countless people around them die, and they both knew firsthand what the aftermath of those deaths was like. The war had changed them both in ways he wouldn't have ever imagined. They _grew up _during it. Everything about their lives was different afterwards, and while they were supposedly "safe," they were also both desperate to make up for all the time they lost growing up while they were _growing up. _

He'd never _not _been serious about Hermione. That was one thing that baffled him so much about his mother's opinion. There'd never been a time when he ever thought of her as anything less than serious. From the very first time they'd kissed, he'd known that he'd never ever want anything else for the whole rest of his life. He'd known it before then, of course, for months or even years maybe. But knowing it from a distance was entirely different from knowing it firsthand after the physical manifestation of it. Honestly, he didn't have a lot to compare. One girl who he snogged incessantly when he was sixteen hardly made him an expert, but it was the only comparison he could draw. And… there _was_ no comparison. Kissing Hermione was the first _real _feeling he'd maybe ever had in his life. That was real, and that was honest, and _that _was what his whole future would be. He knew it, and he didn't ever second-guess himself. He wanted something real and adult with her, something that really _meant _something. And she wanted the same thing.

So everything that happened afterwards just felt normal.

He wanted her desperately, of course, as he was eighteen years old, a virgin, and had spent the last ten months sleeping just feet from her without ever being able to touch. A large portion of the desperation was just that, purely hormonal. She was in exactly the same spot, and while he'd never really considered girls to even really _have_ hormones up to that point, he wasn't _too _shocked when she seemed to want everything just as badly as he did. But the other portion of the desperation, he was now glad to honestly admit, had been completely emotional. He'd had some rough times back then, what with watching the aftermath of Fred's death nearly destroy every single member of his family. He'd been in a lot of pain, and she was the only one who could make it all disappear. He'd always trusted her- she was one of the few people who he literally trusted with his life. And she was the first person he _ever _trusted with his heart. If he cried in front of her, it was okay. She wouldn't make fun of him or tell him to suck it up or even tell him that everything would be okay. She couldn't make that promise, and she knew it. No one knew if everything was going to be okay, and though people always loved to say it, none of them could ever make that promise honestly. She didn't even try. She'd just let him cry and listen if he wanted to talk or talk if he wanted to listen. And he was in love with her right from the beginning.

So when _that _night finally came- and he used the word 'finally' loosely, as it was really just about two weeks after the final battle- it wasn't all just teenage hormones and desperation. It was partly that, yes, but it was mostly just her trying to do something to make him feel better. Truthfully, that had worried him at first, and it had almost made him feel like he was taking advantage of something. But she stopped that train of thought by telling him that it was always supposed to be like that and that there was no point in waiting. And she just gave him _everything _and understood without asking that he just needed to connect with something. She knew everything about him, and that made everything so much simpler.

And he still felt that way, even years later. But even though he loved her more than everything and everyone else in the world put together, she was still Hermione. And she still drove him absolutely _mental. _She'd always been able to make him angrier and more frustrated than anyone else, and she still had that ability. She could be his best friend one second, and then in the next, she'd do or say something that would make him want to kill her- she'd been like that for as long as he'd known her. They were absolutely incapable of simply getting along for any significant amount of time, but it never really bothered him. Fighting with Hermione was one of the most normal things in the world to him, it was as natural as breathing. It didn't _mean _anything, and half the time, they'd fight in one breath and talk about the weather in the next. They just communicated that way. If they actually got angry with each other, they just got over it within a day or two. It was just normal, and they stopped the months long grudge thing they'd done as kids once they both realized that making up was the best part.

And speaking of…

"Well, I'm glad you decided to join us," his mum said haughtily the second they arrived in the sitting room. "It's a good thing the rest of us weren't hungry, so holding lunch was no big deal."

Ron opened his mouth for a rude retort, but Hermione beat him. "We're sorry," she said quickly, offering a sweet smile. "It's my fault. I was up really late last night working on a presentation."

Then she went straight into a huge spill about the committee approval, effectively distracting his mum from the fact that they were nearly an hour past the time they'd agreed upon. She seemed to forget as she walked with Hermione into the kitchen and listened attentively. Ron rolled his eyes as he followed them. She _definitely _liked Hermione better.

He was glad to find that the kitchen wasn't overly-crowded. Sundays at the Burrow had a tendency to draw crowds, and he wasn't particularly in the mood for his entire family at the moment. Besides his parents, the only other attendees were Bill and Victoire. Fleur and Dominique were noticeably absent, and Ron asked where they were as he sat down at the table beside Hermione who had finally shut up after getting on his mum's good side.

"Dominique's not feeling well," Bill said vaguely. He needn't worry, though, as Victoire piped up eagerly to fill in the details he left out.

"She pooed all _over _herself! And all over her bed, too. It was _so _gross!"

Ron laughed before he could stop himself, though his mother seemed quite less than amused.

"_Victoire!" _she snapped, looking over sharply from the stove where she was beginning to hover the dishes. "That is not appropriate talk for the table."

Victoire just raised her eyebrows and tried not to smile. Then, unable to resist, she added, "She can't stop, either! She just keeps pooing and pooing and pooing!"

Bill reached around and clamped a hand over her mouth just in time to deter the requisite scolding that was about to occur. Ron was highly amused, especially when he glanced over and saw that his mum looked ready to blow her top. It was funny. Vic was nearly four and was at the age of saying anything and everything with no regard to tact or other people's reactions or anything else. She was amusing, and if she happened to annoy her grandmother senselessly on the side, it was just a plus.

The food floated over to the table and started settling itself. Victoire looked completely bored and laid her head down on Bill's chest as he kept one arm around her, most likely to shut her up if she started talking about poo again.

"Daddy, I thought Teddy was going to be here," she whined, looking up at him.

Bill answered her while shoveling a few forkfuls of potatoes onto her plate. "No one said that."

She sighed dramatically and shook her head as if she'd just been given devastating news. "No, I guess I just thought it in my head…"

She really was quite a funny kid. She was a complete drama queen and extremely picky, but she also had a very vivid streak of mischief and was _completely _incapable of keeping herself clean in any situation. This annoyed Fleur beyond belief, of course, because she clearly believed that her kids should be picture perfect at all times. Victoire and Dominique were always in pristine dresses with their hair perfectly fixed and adorned with ribbons or bows. But Victoire never managed to stay pristine for long… She lost enough hair bows to accessorize an entire small country, and her dresses always ended up stained or torn. Dominique was, at least thus far, fairing a bit better at keeping herself clean.

Except for when she was pooing herself, of course.

"So, Hermione has exciting news." Ron looked down the table as his mother finally seated herself and started fixing her own plate. "It's not an engagement _or a_ baby, don't worry," she said pointedly.

Hermione pinched his knee hard under the table to shut him up before he could even start.

"It's not really news yet," she said, ignoring the jibe and explaining herself to his dad and Bill. "But I got committee approval for a House-Elves' rights act that I've been working on for ages!" She had that very familiar look of trying hard not to appear too pleased with herself.

"I heard about that." Ron glanced over at his dad who was smiling at Hermione as he spoke.

"You did?" She seemed amazed and hopeful all at once.

He nodded. "And I knew it was yours. It had to be. I even told Collins, I told him, that's got to be my girl's!"

Hermione was smiling so widely that Ron thought her cheeks my crack. It was very nice of his dad to act so enthused. "Nothing's set in stone, of course," she said quickly. "But if this goes through, just think of how amazing it'll be! It would change_ everything _for the House-Elves!"

Ron knew that no one in his family was particularly interested in House-Elves. He himself was so bloody sick of them after all these years that he sometimes dreamt of pitching the whole lot of them off the side of the Tower Bridge. But they could all feign interest at least, and that's exactly what they were all politely doing.

All except Victoire, of course, who was sitting up extremely straight and hanging onto Hermione's every word.

"House-Elves?" she asked curiously, and Hermione nodded. Vic grinned widely then and said, "My mum wants to get one of them!"

The next few seconds were some of the most comical Ron had witnessed in a very long time.

Hermione's mouth literally dropped open in shock, and she stared at Victoire in horror. Bill scrambled quickly to cover up by shaking his head rapidly. "No, she doesn't," he said hurriedly.

But Vic was having none of it. "Yes, she does," she argued. "She said it last night, Daddy, you heard her."

He continued shaking his head. "No, she didn't."

"_Yes, _she did," Victoire said assuredly, looking up at Bill wide-eyed.

"No, she _didn't, _Victoire," he answered firmly, chuckling nervously as he patted her on the side of the head rather roughly. "What she _said," _he lied, looking back to Hermione, "was that she couldn't imagine having one. Because it's such injustice."

Hermione closed her mouth and stared at him disbelievingly for several long moments before finally turning her attention back to his daughter. "Victoire," she said sweetly, "you should tell your mummy that people who push their own work off onto others age prematurely. They get horrible wrinkles because they constantly have to worry about whether or not their work is getting done and how it's getting done. Also, their hair goes gray much more quickly. Oh, and they get really fat, too, because they're so lazy, they just sit around and do nothing!" She smiled dangerously. "So make sure you tell your mum that, okay?"

Victoire just shrugged and said, "Okay!"

Hermione smiled at her once more before turning a rather evil looking glare back at Bill.

And then Ron couldn't hold it in anymore. He let out a snort of laughter and tried to get very interested in his plate as he felt Hermione's glare turn away from his brother and toward him instead.

"Do you think that's funny, Ron?" she asked, her voice low and dangerous.

"No," he answered, trying to sound convincing, though the break in the word betrayed him horribly.

"I can't imagine what you could possibly find amusing about the enslavement of an entire _species_ of beings. I don't see anything funny about that at all."

He pushed his food around with his fork and kept his eyes trained on the plate, biting down on his lip in one last-ditch attempt to not laugh. "Nothing, Hermione," he said, barely able to keep himself from wheezing. "It's despicable…" He couldn't do it. Trying to say the word 'despicable' in his current state proved too much, and he finally lost it. His shoulders shook with silent laughter.

She was furious. He knew as much without even looking at her. He could tell that everyone else at the table was just waiting for the explosion. They'd all witnessed plenty more than this, though, so it was nothing new.

"You're setting an excellent example for your niece," Hermione said haughtily. "I hope you want her to grow up thinking that slavery is something to be joked about."

He couldn't help it then. Rolling his eyes, he looked over at her. "She's a _kid, _Hermione."

But Hermione just nodded and pursed her lips. "You're right. And you're doing her no favors by laughing at issues that are _extremely _serious." She appeared to be chewing the inside of her cheek for a few seconds until she finally added, "You know, if _we e_ver have children, I hope they're nothing like you and are mature enough to realize the horrors of extreme injustice and abuse."

He stared at her, not really believing she'd just come out and said she hoped their hypothetical kids were nothing like him. He thought for a second, coming up with a good response.

"Yeah?" She nodded. He narrowed his eyes. "Well, I hope we have a daughter who's _exactly _like you."

"You do?" She was not amused.

He didn't care. He just nodded, and then as calmly as possible said, "Yes. I hope she's a bratty, bossy little know-it-all who's completely mental and drives you absolutely _insane_."

Hermione's lips were pursed so tightly that he thought they might get stuck that way. She glared at him, and he met her with a completely even gaze. There was silence from the rest of the table until his mother finally broke it, sighing loudly.

"Well, I just hope you have any children at all, though I can't see how that's possible when you haven't even got rings on your fingers."

Hermione snapped back around to face the front and crossed her arms tightly over her chest. Ron just rolled his eyes and swore. "Oh, for fuck's sake…"

"_Ronald!"_

It was a female voice chastising him, but he couldn't even make out whether it was Hermione or whether it was his mum. What did it even matter anyway?

At this point, they may as well have been one and the same.

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A/N: Yay, another quick update! I love these two. Aww, it's so much fun to write them! Anyway, thanks for reviewing, hope you enjoyed it!


	5. Family and Fatigue

**BACK TO THE BEGINNING**

**Chapter 5**

**FAMILY AND FATIGUE**

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Ginny wanted to like her sisters-in-law, she really did.

It was very difficult, though, when her brothers insisted on marrying complete twits like Fleur Delacour and Audrey Mason. Angelina, at least, was alright, but the others tended to be quite intolerable sometimes. She tried, though. No one could say she didn't make an honest effort at being nice to all the new women in her family. She was beyond thankful that Hermione seemed to see _something _in Ron that she liked because it meant that, hopefully, she'd eventually have at least one more female ally in her family.

Though, of course, sometimes Hermione drove her even crazier than the ones already in the family…

But she loved Hermione. She was her best friend. Even as psychotic as she could sometimes be, she was still the closest thing to a _real _sister that Ginny'd ever had. They'd always got along well, but that last year at Hogwarts- the one they spent together without the boys- had turned Hermione into her most trusted confidante. So needless to say, Ginny was extremely hopeful that Ron wouldn't do anything to fuck things up because she really, _really _needed Hermione to counter the likes of her other brothers' choices.

Her parents' thirty-fifth anniversary was fast-approaching, and someone, though the question of exactly _which _someone was still up in the air, decided that throwing a gigantic celebration would be a fantastic idea. Ginny, although she loved her parents dearly, couldn't quite get on board with the whole throw a huge party thing. Of course, that didn't matter, and as one of their children, she was forced to participate. That was how she found herself sitting at the dining room table in Shell Cottage listening to Fleur and Audrey debate the décor.

She couldn't help noticing that a few of her brothers had managed to escape this hell, and she was more than a little bitter that she was guilted into being here. She felt that a lot of it had to do with her being a girl, as girls, she figured, were supposed to enjoy "fun" things like party planning and tablecloth choices. She didn't. Not even a little bit.

Angelina was also absent, using the new baby as an excuse to stay away. Ginny was extremely jealous and knew perfectly well that Angelina just hated Fleur and Audrey as much she did. No, wait. Hate was a mean word, and she didn't mean that. She didn't _hate _them, she didn't. She just couldn't bloody stand them! At least Hermione was there, though, and every so often, Ginny would look over at her and roll her eyes, much to the distaste of the other women who continuously sent them both rather contemptuous looks and chose to simply turn their noses up and go back to their own discussions.

Ginny didn't even know why she was there. No one was asking her opinion, and no one seemed to care if she even _had _an opinion. Hermione was at the table with paperwork in front of her, contributing absolutely nothing to the discussion about napkin colors. Bill and George were talking Quidditch stats, and Percy was attempting to give Lucy a bottle. Everyone else was just absent. Occasionally, she tried to throw her opinions into the Quidditch discussion, but both her brothers just sort of ignored her and seemed to give little acknowledgement to her. It didn't matter, of course, that she was actually a professional Quidditch player… No, it only mattered that she was a _girl._

She was extremely irritable, and she wasn't entirely sure why. She assumed most of it was just due to being forced here against her will and not having a valid excuse to miss. Ron and Harry had both conveniently had to work, Charlie was out of the country again, and Angelina had a newborn. She should have had training or something, but everyone knew her team was on a three week hiatus between matches. Fucking hiatus.

"I just think blue has a much more_ homey _feel to it." Audrey was thumbing through color swatches, and Fleur was staring at her with a look of complete and utter distaste.

"And since when is '_omey_ a good thing?"

Ginny resisted the urge to roll her eyes for the thousandth time. Fleur was damn well capable of pronouncing the letter H by now, but she still insisted on speaking with that ridiculous heavy accent, despite the fact that her English was completely perfect. She stopped herself, remembering that Fleur was really _not _that bad. She was high-strung and high-maintenance and could be a bit snobbish, but she wasn't as bad as Ginny had once thought. Still, though, she was fucking annoying.

Realizing that she needed to just remove herself completely from the situation before she finally became so irritable that she hexed someone or something, Ginny cleared her throat. "Well, seeing as how I don't really have much to contribute, I think I'm going to head out." She moved to stand up, but Bill stopped her.

"You can't just leave, Ginny."

She looked at him with raised eyebrows. "Why not?"

"Because you haven't _done _anything."

She straightened up and glared at him for a couple of seconds. "And what have _you _done?"

"I…" His voice trailed off as he clearly realized that he had not, in fact, done anything. It didn't matter, though, because Fleur jumped in to his defense.

"We 'ave already organized nearly everything."

Ginny bit down on the back of her teeth and didn't even look down the table to where Fleur was so rudely interrupting. Instead, she looked at Hermione who had momentarily abandoned whatever paperwork she was studying.

"Help me make some tea, Ginny!" Hermione said quickly, standing up and ushering her into the kitchen. Ginny followed reluctantly and grumbled none too inconspicuously the entire way.

"Why can't she just speak fucking English?!" she hissed the second they were safely in the kitchen.

Hermione just looked at her and shook her head. It was very obvious to Ginny that she wanted to know the same thing but didn't want to say anything that might show she approved of the language Ginny used to pose the question. Ginny wouldn't fault her with it, although she often wished Hermione was just a bit more _normal. _

"Why are we even here?" she asked sighing loudly as she slumped against the counter.

Hermione gave a little sigh, too, and shook her head. "Why _are _we here?"

"I don't know, but if Ron and Harry can get out of this shit, we should be able to as well!"

Hermione pursed her lips together and gave a tiny little nod of agreement.

The door to the kitchen opened then, and they both stopped mid-rant and looked over to see the new visitor. It was just Victoire, looking rather as if she was sneaking around doing something she shouldn't. She stopped short when she saw that the kitchen was already occupied and put both hands behind her back with a rather guilty look on her face.

"What are you doing?" Ginny asked suspiciously, eyeing her carefully.

"Nothing."

"What have you got behind your back?"

"Nothing. I haven't got anything." Victoire was a horrible liar, but at least she could speak English. Unlike _someone _who happened to give birth to her.

Ginny didn't buy the story for a second and walked right over to her niece, taking the liberty to reach behind her and pull both of her hands back around to the front. To her surprise, though, they were empty. She narrowed her eyes at Victoire who finally just cracked.

"I just wanted a biscuit," she admitted. "I was only going to have one."

Oh, how incredibly boring. Ginny sincerely hoped that Vic would grow up to do something a bit more scandalous than sneaking _biscuits. _She actually rolled her eyes at the lameness.

Hermione, though, went into full responsibility mode. "You shouldn't be sneaking," she lectured seriously. "You need to go ask your parents if you're allowed."

"But I'm _not _allowed!" Victoire protested immediately, completely tattling on herself and giving up her whole game in one swoop. Ginny was so disappointed. It was pathetic. That _had _to be the Delacour coming out in her.

Of course, Hermione didn't share her opinion. She went straight back to disciplining Victoire. "Then you _definitely _shouldn't be sneaking! You ought to be ashamed of yourself!"

She had a very fierce look in her eyes that even worried Ginny a bit. One day, Hermione was going to have the most well-behaved and most well-mannered children on the planet. Victoire looked as if she was about to burst into tears, and Hermione didn't even appear the least bit sympathetic. Ginny herself didn't care one way or the other except for the fact that Victoire wasn't allowed sweets because they made her hyper… And she could just _imagine _the fun of having a daughter bouncing off the walls on a sugar high.

"Here," she said quickly, turning around to rummage through the cupboards until she found a pack of store-bought biscuits. She took one out and handed it to Victoire. "Don't tell anyone," she said sharply, and Victoire smiled brightly and shook her head. Ginny gave it another thought and then handed her another one. "Have two."

"_Ginny!"_

It was Hermione, of course, but Ginny ignored her and reached into the pack for two more. "Here, give these to Dominique and Molly."

"Thanks, Aunt Ginny!" Victoire said excitedly, grasping all the biscuits in her hand and smiling widely.

Ginny just shrugged and patted her on the head. "Now, go away. And don't get caught," she added as an afterthought, shoving her niece out of the kitchen. She reluctantly turned back around to face Hermione who was predictably glaring in her direction.

"I can't believe you did that!" she hissed, narrowing her eyes. "She just admitted she's not allowed! Much less without permission!"

"Oh, come off it," Ginny rolled her eyes. "You know I only did it so that she can drive Fleur crazy. And hopefully Molly'll make Audrey mental, too. Then maybe we can get out of this hellhole."

"Aren't you at all interested in your parents' anniversary party?"

"Not really," she said flatly. "Just tell me when and where, and I'll show up. But I'm not dying to plan the details."

Hermione could say nothing, as she, too, was just as unenthused with the party planning. Of course, they weren't _her _parents, but they were pretty damn close. Ginny didn't feel bad about not caring. Just because she didn't want to plan some stupid party didn't mean she cared any less about her parents. It just meant that she had no interest in the details.

"There are _so _many other places I could be right now," she said bitterly, leaning back against the counter again. This was sort of a lie. Well, not technically, she supposed, as there were plenty of places she _could _be. Just not plenty of places she _would _be. Her training was on halt, and Harry was at work. Quidditch and Harry were pretty much the only two things she did.

She turned the attention to Hermione instead. "How did your presentation go?" She knew that Hermione's House-Elf thing was early last week, and she hadn't actually seen her since.

It was the right topic to steer Hermione away from lecturing her, though, because she immediately lit up excitedly. "It was good, I think!" she said quickly. "It was just the initial presentation, and it doesn't actually go to committee for two more weeks, but I think it went really well. I was scared to death, of course, but once I got in there, it wasn't so bad." She said all of this very quickly, and Ginny had to force her own ears to speed up to take it all in.

"So how do you think it'll go in committee?" she asked, feigning interest. Truthfully, she didn't even know how the whole mess worked with presentations and committees and Act-drafting and all that. So she asked just to be asking.

"Oh, well, you can't really predict it, can you?" Ginny shook her head because she figured it was the right reaction. Apparently it was because Hermione just prattled on. "But I hope it'll all be good. Everyone seemed to respond pretty well to my presentation. They asked a lot of questions, and they _seemed _interested."

"That's good." Ginny didn't know what else to say, so she quickly thought up a new topic, one they'd already briefly discussed previously. "Do you really think Fleur's accent is still legitimate? Or do you think she puts it on a bit?"

"Ginny."

"What?" She raised her eyebrows. "It's a legitimate question!"

Hermione looked cross again, but after a few seconds of silent scolding, she sighed and shook her head. "I don't think it should still be that prevalent."

"See!" Ginny threw a hand in the air. "That's what I think, too." Then she wrinkled up her forehead and shook her head helplessly. "I really just can't stand her sometimes."

"What is _wrong _with you?" Hermione asked, staring at her incredulously. "You haven't bee this anti-Fleur since before they were married!"

Ginny didn't honestly know the answer to that, so she just sort of scowled and shrugged a bit. "I don't know. I'm just tired. And I don't feel well."

"Oh, I hope you're not getting a flu," Hermione said immediately, and she seemed to back up instantly. "Ron's been sort of sluggish as well, but he says it's just because he's working so much."

It was ironic that Hermione backed away from Ginny at the thought of the flu but immediately went into comparing it with Ron's symptoms. Ginny was fairly certain that if Hermione were going to catch an illness from one of them, it would most likely be the one she was shagging.

She didn't say this, though, she just shook her head. "I don't think it's a flu. It's probably nothing. I'm just sort of tired, I think it's making me bitchy."

"Well, you certainly don't need a flu for _that," _Hermione teased with a smirk. Ginny threw a dishtowel at her. She dodged it and laughed. "You probably just need to sleep more. That's what your brother needs."

"There are _loads _of things my brother needs, but I can't imagine sleep is one of them," Ginny said doubtfully.

But Hermione just shook her head. "No, seriously. You wouldn't believe the hours he's been working now that George is out. He constantly looks like he's going to fall over from exhaustion or something."

"It's probably because he's having to actually work for the first time in his lazy life and can't manage it."

Hermione stared at her rather sharply with a look that was a cross somewhere between anger and hurt. "That is not true," she defended seriously. "He always works hard."

Ginny almost laughed, but she kept it in. Instead she just shook her head. "Wow, didn't realize I couldn't _joke. _Sorry."

"No, it's okay," Hermione covered up quickly, turning around to finally fiddle with the tea kettle. "I just feel bad for him. I wish he could just have a break, you know?"

Ginny watched the back of her head, wondering how it was even possible that someone as idiotic as Ron could brainwash someone as intelligent as Hermione so easily. That had to be it, Hermione had to be brainwashed, as she, despite the fact that she had no qualms whatsoever about laying into Ron herself, was extremely defensive whenever anyone else said anything even remotely negative about him. Even in a joking manner apparently.

Ginny decided not to harp on it, though, and just carried on. "Harry looks like that a lot, too," she said, going over to get some cups down as Hermione made the tea. "He's so tired when he gets off work, you can tell all he wants to do is just go to sleep."

She'd spent the past two weeks with him, which was a rarity. The temporary hiatus, though, had given her the perfect opportunity to go stay with him in London at his flat, though she was finding out quickly that he was hardly ever there. At least when he was doing the overnight shift, she had him most of the day if she went to visit. With his new stupid mid-shift, she had him for maybe an hour in the morning and then had him completely knackered at night.

"Well, Harry's easy," Hermione said knowingly, turning back around from the stove. "If you give him something to obsess over, he'll stay awake all hours of the night and will never, ever appear even remotely tired. It has to be something good, though, but if you can find something, you'll have him awake and alert all the time. Of course," she added, shrugging, "he'll probably ignore everything you say because he'll be so focused on the new obsession, but it's worth a shot, I suppose."

She was right, of course, but Hermione usually was. Still, it was certainly no secret that Harry had a tendency to fall fully into obsession mode if there was some conspiracy or something that sparked his interest. Of course, these days, there were far less conspiracy theories to investigate, as the world was rather calm on that end. Sometimes Ginny thought he might actually _miss _that, but then she figured that he probably didn't miss constantly thinking he was going to die. She certainly didn't miss it, _that _was for sure.

"I think his constant tiredness is making me the same way," she reasoned, handing Hermione a cup to fill. "I honestly feel like I could sleep for twelve hours straight."

Hermione looked over at her and studied her for a few moments. "Then you may want to get checked out," she said seriously. "You're not normally that tired, you may be sick."

"I don't _feel _sick, though. Just tired. I've got a headache, but I think it's just from being so tired and maybe sleeping _too _much." She sipped at her tea and raised one shoulder. "It's not really _sick, _though, I just don't feel very well."

"Well, ask your mum if she knows any home remedies or anything like that. It may just be that, though, you might just be sleeping too much. Sometimes that'll make you feel more tired than you would be with no sleep at all."

Ginny knew that Hermione was probably right. She didn't think there was anything wrong, probably just that she was tired and it was making her head hurt and making her more irritable than usual. She was used to going to training every day and actually having a life outside of a rather empty London flat. Once she got back into her regular routine, everything would go back to normal.

"Do you think we have to go back out there and play nice with the twits?" Ginny finally asked, half-smiling as Hermione looked put out by the mere suggestion.

She sighed, though, and nodded. "We should at least _pretend _to help."

"We should disagree with everything they say and come up with the most outrageous plans in the world," Ginny snickered. "Just to see the looks on their faces as they practically keel over with disgust."

Hermione laughed, and she actually looked tempted. "I think your parents would enjoy a circus elephant and joint male and female strippers at their party, don't you?"

Ginny laughed, too, and nodded. "I can't think of anything they'd like more! Except maybe a fountain in the shape of a naked mermaid that shoots champagne from between its tits."

They couldn't keep their laughing under control then as they continued to plot all the horrible details of a party that would make both Fleur _and _Audrey positively mental with fury. Somehow, Ginny was much more excited about being involved with the planning session now than she'd been moments before. She seemed to wake up for the first time in over a week, and she didn't feel as irritable. Even though she knew none of these plans were serious or would ever make it to the actual party, the mere suggestion of them would make her sisters-in-law crazy.

And at the moment, that was the best medicine she could hope for.

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A/N: Thanks for reading! Please review!


	6. Career Changes and Challenges

**BACK TO THE BEGINNING**

**Chapter 6**

**CAREER CHANGES AND CHALLENGES**

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Harry had only been at work for a little more than two hours when he found Hermione crying at her desk.

He was just on his way back from the loo when he passed by the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. He always made a point to stop and chat with her whenever he happened by her department, and he instinctively looked over to where she normally sat. The department was largely deserted, and he didn't even notice her at first, but then he saw that she was seated at her desk as normal, only she was slumped over and her head was resting flat against the wood.

He thought for a second that she was asleep, but he knew better than that. She worked in a relatively small department, but the rest of her teammates had all apparently found elsewhere to work for the moment, as all their desks were empty. Wondering what was up, he went over to her, and she jumped nearly a foot in the air when he put his hand on her back.

"Oh," she said breathlessly, looking up at him. "Sorry."

Her eyes were slightly wet, and he could tell that she was fighting back tears for some reason. "What's wrong?" he asked, but she shook her head.

"Nothing. Nothing's wrong."

She was never the best liar, but she was usually better than _that. _He raised an eyebrow, and she looked away. "What happened?"

"Nothing." Her breath hitched, and he watched a tear leak out against her will and slide down her cheek. She wiped it away stubbornly.

He glanced around to make sure no one was watching, and then he knelt down beside her desk. "Hey," he put a hand on her knee. "Tell me what happened."

She finally looked back at him and shook her head. "Everyone here hates me," she whispered, and he watched as two more tears fell.

He didn't know what she was on about, and he looked at her questioningly. "Nobody hates you, Hermione."

"Yes, they do!" she insisted, keeping her voice at little more than a whisper. "They're all angry at me because they say I've spent too much time working on my proposal. They said I've left the rest of them to pick up the slack on everything else, and they're all mad!"

He knew she was talking about the House-Elf thing. She'd been working on it nonstop for a few weeks now, and, according to Ron, didn't even stop when she went home. He couldn't see how anyone could be _angry _with her, though, considering that if she was successful with this, it would be a great accomplishment for their entire department. Besides, he knew well enough that Hermione had a tendency to be dramatic, so he doubted very much that everyone was as angry as she claimed.

"I'm sure they aren't," he said reasonably. "You're probably just stressed out."

"They all left me to go to lunch together! They didn't even _invite _me!" She drew in a quick breath and wiped some more tears off her cheeks. "They've been mean to me all morning!"

He didn't know how much she was exaggerating or being overly sensitive about, but he felt bad for her. He reached up to push some hair out of her face and said, "You want to go to lunch with me?"

Her resolve softened a bit, and she gave him a sad, though grateful, smile. "I'm supposed to meet Ron."

"I can come with you."

She smiled again and nodded. He tried to smile back and make her feel better as he stood up.

After he went back to his desk to let someone know he was taking lunch early, he went back down to get Hermione and waited as she got her jacket on. Then the two of them Apparated to Diagon Alley just outside WWWs. He was thankful when they arrived that the road wasn't too crowded, as he didn't really want to be mobbed at the moment. He hoped to just sneak in unnoticed, and he hurried toward the shop to do just that. Hermione followed him, and he noticed that she still looked rather depressed.

Ron noticed, too, the second they entered the shop.

"What's wrong?" he asked, coming right over to them and immediately putting an arm over her shoulder. That made her start crying all over again, and Harry met Ron's eye over her head, shrugging in response to the unasked question.

Hermione didn't even try not to cry this time, and Harry watched as she turned around and buried her face right into Ron's chest as he walked her backwards toward the rear of the store. They were met with a few strange looks, but Harry was actually sort of grateful for Hermione's current state of upset because it kept the onlookers at a distance. No one rushed up to him for a picture or an autograph, as they all seemed to think something was seriously wrong and wanted to give them space.

The office at the back of the store wasn't very large, but Harry followed the other two into it while Hermione continued to cry and Ron continued to look completely puzzled. He watched as Ron sat Hermione down in a chair and then sat opposite of her in another one, putting both hands on her shoulders and trying to force her into looking at him.

"What happened?"

"Everyone hates me!"

Hermione gave him the same story she'd given Harry, even adding in a few details of the things people had actually said. Harry had to admit that if she were quoting correctly, they really _were _a bit mean, and he could sort of understand why she was so upset. Ron, of course, looked positively furious that anyone would ever dare call her a 'selfish, opportunistic brown-noser,' and Harry wondered how long it would take him to hunt down the person who said it and make his opinion known.

As predicted, Ron ran a hand over her hair and then let it rest on her neck. "They're just jealous of you, Hermione," he said seriously. "And I'll go down there and tell them so."

Hermione looked mortified at the thought and rubbed furiously at her cheeks. "No, it's fine," she said quickly. "And they're not jealous, they're just angry."

"Angry _because_ they're jealous_…" _Ron said pointedly. "They're just mad because your proposal was actually good enough to go to committee, and none of them have ever had a singlehandedly prepared proposal make it that far." He seemed very sure of himself, and Harry was not for the first time surprised at how fiercely defensive he could get over Hermione. Of course, they'd been battling some variant of that since the day they met, so he wasn't _too _shocked.

But Hermione was determined to keep things as calm as possible. "No, it's fine," she said, brushing away the last remainders of her temporary breakdown. "I'll just try harder."

"You're working yourself to death!" Ron exclaimed, and Hermione frowned.

"I _am_ trying," she admitted quietly. "But I know I shouldn't push my other work off…"

"They need to back off and leave you alone," Ron said firmly. "They haven't got a clue how hard you work all the time."

Hermione forced what appeared to be a very tiny smile onto her face. She was clearly working very hard to appear as if she wasn't the least bit bothered by the same things she'd just spent the last several minutes complaining about.

"It'll be fine," she said assuredly, smiling once more as if to prove herself right. "I'm just going to run to the bathroom for a second."

She got up and disappeared back into the stock room, and the second she was out of earshot, Ron rounded on Harry and started speaking very quickly.

"I think I want to quit."

"Quit what?" Harry was confused, and he hoped very desperately that Ron wasn't talking about his relationship, as he had a major fear of being forced into the middle of things should they eventually deteriorate between Ron and Hermione. Ron, though, didn't seem to be on that page at all, though.

"Quit the shop." He said this as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, as if he talked about it every day. Only he didn't talk about it every day. To the best of Harry's knowledge, it was nothing something he ever talked about or even thought about. As far as Harry knew, Ron was perfectly happy working at WWWs. After all, he'd been helping to run it since he was eighteen years old. He couldn't imagine much had changed.

"What're you on about?" he asked, looking over at him as if he'd actually gone as mental as he sounded. Harry was beginning to think that between Hermione's breakdown at work and Ron's current bout of insanity, there must be a gas leak or something at their flat. It was the only logical way to explain their madness.

Ron, though, didn't seem interested in playing up theories about gas leaks or anything like that. Instead, he seemed incredibly intent on spilling his entire plan before Hermione got back within hearing distance. Of course, whenever he did things purposely to keep Hermione in the dark on something, those things always turned out rather horribly. Harry said nothing, though, just listened as Ron went into his explanation.

"Look, I'm working all the time, right? But I can't make any money here! I don't know how I'm supposed to start making any kind of future when I can't even start a savings."

Okay. So perhaps that bit sounded logical. But that didn't excuse the fact that it was completely fucking mental.

"If you want more money, just ask for it," Harry said pointedly. Truthfully, he'd never understood why Ron didn't take more money to begin with. He did far more than simply work the counter. He actually seemed to have as much a part in running the shop as George did, so he couldn't understand why he didn't just accept more in the first place.

"I can't ask for it," Ron explained, and he seemed a bit annoyed by the suggestion. "I don't want to take more than I'm worth just because George is my brother."

"But you _are _worth more…"

"Anyone could do my job," he shot back defensively. "But that's not the issue. The issue is that I want to actually start thinking about the future, and I just don't think I can do it here."

"And do you plan on telling Hermione any of this?"

Harry already knew the answer was no. Or at least the answer would be no until the very last possible second. Ron was scared of Hermione to a certain extent, and he and Harry both knew that quitting his job would be the exact sort of thing that would absolutely send Hermione off the deep end. She would likely try murdering him, and if she didn't succeed, she would make damn sure that he was in as much physical pain as possible as she spent several years making his life miserable.

Ron skirted the question. "I'll surprise her."

"Surprise her when? When you get evicted?" Harry said it without thinking, but it was also a very truthful and legitimate statement. He tried to ignore the way Ron glared at him as he went right on. "I don't really think she'll be too pleased by coming home to find all her things tossed out onto the walk and the locks changed on your flat. You can't just not have a job."

Ron looked very annoyed by the straightforward advice. "I _know _that," he snapped defensively. He huffed a little bit and then said, "I want to join the Aurors."

Harry just raised his eyebrows. He didn't really know what to say, and he was, quite frankly, shocked. When they were kids, they'd both talked about being Aurors together. When Harry went to the Academy, they'd both thought Ron would just be a year or so behind. He'd go work at WWWs long enough to help George get back on his feet after Fred's death, and then he'd join up as well. But that year or so turned into several, and five years later, Harry had pretty much accepted the fact that Ron being an Auror was pretty much just a childhood fantasy that was no longer relevant.

But maybe he was wrong.

"Are you sure?" he asked, not wanting to sound as if he had any issue with it, but also not wanting to get his hopes up too high. "I thought you didn't want to do it anymore."

"I never said that."

"Well, I just assumed…" Harry's voice trailed temporarily. "It's been awhile since you talked about it."

Ron just shrugged. "I needed to be here. I think I've done enough."

Harry didn't know what to say. Honestly, he was excited by the thought of having Ron on the team. He got along well enough with all the other members of his team, but he couldn't consider any of them to exactly be _friends. _Being who he was, he was in a strange position when it came to personal relationships. He was very wary of other people, even those he worked with, because it was impossible to tell what certain intentions were. It wasn't that he immediately thought all people were evil and trying to off him, though he _was _admittedly a bit more cautious to the possibility than most people would be, but there was more to it than that. He'd come to realize a very long time ago that people were drawn more to his name than they were to him as a person. In school, he'd seen plenty of people try to be his friend when they really only cared about being friends with The Chosen One. Things were even worse now, and he constantly had to fight off misplaced admiration from people eager to know him for all the wrong reasons. It was because of this that he came off as a bit standoffish to some people. It wasn't that he had a superiority complex or anything even close to that- he just knew who his real friends were and wasn't overly-eager to make new ones. So having Ron, who really _was _his best friend, around would certainly be a positive thing.

Still, he wasn't completely sure how great it would turn out for _Ron._

"I think Hermione might be mad," he admitted, looking up at Ron warily, knowing all too well how easy it was to get him riled up and off on some random tangent.

"Why would she be?" he snapped back immediately. Harry opened his mouth to explain, but he didn't get the chance. "It's more money, a better job, a more stable schedule…"

Harry didn't know about that. The schedule was shit, and he told him so. "You'll be on nights for years. I think she might have a problem with that."

If Ron agreed, he refused to acknowledge it. Instead, he just shook his head. "She'll know why it's important. And yeah, it might be a little rough, but we'll both get used to it."

Harry didn't know what to say to that. Ginny had never complained much about his working nights, but that was probably largely due to the fact that they didn't live together. When they saw each other, he _wasn't _working, so it didn't affect much in their relationship. If anything, she complained more now that he'd moved up to the swing than she had before. But she seemed to be complaining about quite a bit lately, so he was doing his best to just pretend not to notice. Still, Hermione wouldn't be as forgiving of the overnight shift. She worked a very steady schedule of nine to six that sometimes went over by her own choice, so he didn't think she'd be too pleased when Ron's schedule suddenly became the _opposite _nine to six.

"Look," Ron said, breaking into his thoughts and trying to make a stronger defense. "I want to do this _for _Hermione. I think she'll get that…"

Harry wasn't too sure, but he didn't see the point in beating the issue any longer. Besides, maybe he was wrong. Ron knew Hermione better than he did, so maybe she really _would _think it was a good idea. Hermione could be extremely unpredictable at times, so who was he to try and guess what her reaction would be.

"Just don't say anything to her," Ron added quickly. "Or to Ginny because she's got a big fucking mouth."

Harry thought that perhaps he should defend Ginny, but he realized quickly that there was nothing to defend her against. She _did _have a big fucking mouth… He couldn't deny the facts, could he?

They were interrupted then by the reappearance of Hermione. Her face was less red and not nearly as splotchy, so Harry figured she must have spent her time in the bathroom rinsing it and fixing it with a quick spell. She was no longer crying, though the smile on her face was quite clearly very fake.

"So," she said with a false air of cheeriness. "We should have lunch, right?"

Harry had nearly forgot about lunch. It was much earlier than the time he normally took his break, so he wasn't extremely hungry. He watched as Hermione went about unpacking a sack of food she'd brought over, and he wondered how edible it was. He didn't exactly trust her culinary creations, having had enough of them as a teenager to last a lifetime. As talented as she was in most everything, she was rather shit in the kitchen, and they all knew it. Still, she'd only packed fruit and sandwiches, so he didn't see how it could really be _that _bad.

"Do you feel better?" Ron asked as she handed him a sandwich and sat down in the chair beside him. His voice was full of honest concern, and Harry sort of wished he was somewhere else. He was used to them being a _them, _of course, but it still didn't make him feel any more comfortable when they started acting like it. He was fine when they were screaming at each other because it was something he was used to. A lot of other people got uncomfortable when they started arguing because they always seemed to forget that other people were around and just went at it, but it was normal to Harry. He'd grown up listening to them rip into each other, and he was kind of at a point where he could almost pretty much ignore it. But when they were actually _nice _to each other, it still freaked him out a bit. And at the moment, Ron was speaking to Hermione in a tone so sincere and concerned that it couldn't be construed as anything less than that of a man in love with a woman.

And Harry still had problems wrapping his head around that.

Hermione answered him back in a similar soft sort of tone. Hers was that of a person trying to pretend like they're fine in order to keep people they love from worrying. "Yeah, I'm fine."

It was obviously a lie, but no one called her on it. Ron just eyed her kind of suspiciously and reached over to tuck a loose curl behind her ear. "Don't worry about what any of those idiots say, okay?" he said seriously. "Because you're perfect, and they're never going to be as good as you."

Harry definitely wished he could disappear. Apparently, they forgot other people were in the room when they decided to be _nice _to each other as well. Hermione had this look on her face that gave Harry a nervous fear that she might jump into Ron's arms right then and _really _forget that they weren't alone. She didn't, though, she just blushed a little and finally smiled a genuine smile.

That was the end of it. They all ate the sandwiches and talked about a lot of nothingness. The food wasn't awful, and it was nice just to have lunch with friends. It felt really normal, which was something none of them were overly-used to it. Harry thought they didn't do it nearly enough, so it was nice when the chance presented itself. Hermione bored them to death with talk about her newest _SPEW _venture, though, of course, she no longer called it that. He and Ron still did, though only behind her back, of course. Everything was just really perfectly normal, and Harry realized how much he missed this sort of thing. Maybe working with Ron would be something really great, and maybe they could actually have a little bit of fun. He had to admit that the prospect of it wasn't bad at all. Still, he worried about Hermione's reaction and her ability to snap at the tiniest of things. After today's displays, she seemed even more emotional than normal.

A horrible thought occurred to him, and he sincerely hoped she wasn't _pregnant _or something.

_None _of them were ready for something like _that._

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A/N: So that was sort of short, but I wanted to get it out there. The next chapter is going to hold a very interesting discovery that I'm sure NONE of you can guess… (sarcasm, sarcasm) Please review!


	7. Pregnancy and Pressure

**BACK TO THE BEGINNING**

**Chapter 7**

**PREGNANCY AND PRESSURE**

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There were just two days left until the committee meeting, and Hermione was starting to feel the pressure.

She was extremely stressed out and was starting to question her own preparedness. She knew that she'd done as much as she could, but it still didn't stop her feeling as though she was somehow ill-prepared. It was the same feeling she'd had all through school whenever an important exam was approaching- excited and terrified all at the same time. It was very much the same thing because just as she was prepared now, she'd ever gone into an exam with less than extensive knowledge on the subject matter. But it never stopped the nerves from building.

She was waist-deep in last minute research and paperwork, and she was running on approximately two hours of sleep. She'd taken the day off work to do her final bits of prep work, and she was more than a tiny bit stressed out. So when she heard a loud popping noise from her kitchen, she was a tad annoyed. She'd already told Ron that she really needed the day to herself, and she didn't appreciate the fact that he apparently couldn't comprehend that and decided to pop home midday anyway. Sighing loudly, she got up from her desk and headed straight into the kitchen to tell him just that.

She was surprised, of course, to find that it wasn't Ron in her kitchen, but another red-headed Weasley.

"Ginny, what's wrong?" she asked immediately. The evidence that something major had happened was clear on Ginny's face, as she looked caught somewhere between tears and hysteria. She didn't reply straight away, and Hermione actually got really worried. "Did something happen?" she asked slowly, hating herself for fearing the worst. It was difficult to break the habit of always expecting bad things, and even though she was slowly getting away from it, her mind still tended to go there at times.

"I need to talk to you." Ginny's voice sounded dull and completely emotionless. She still had that weird look on her face of panic, and her tone didn't quite match it.

Ginny had just returned to Holyhead a few days before, and Hermione wondered why she wasn't at training. She doubted that they'd cut the day short or canceled for some reason, and Ginny never missed Quidditch for anything pretty much. So needless to say, she was a little bit concerned to see her here turned up in her kitchen in the middle of the day.

"Is Ron here?" Ginny glanced around as though expecting him to pop out from behind the refrigerator.

Hermione shook her head. "No, he's working."

"Good."

"Ginny, what _happened?"_

She watched as Ginny turned incredibly paler and drew in a very slow, heavy breath. There seemed to be an hour of silence before she finally spit it out.

"I think I may be pregnant."

Hermione wasn't sure she heard correctly at first. Several moments passed as she tried to replay the sentence over and over in her head until she was positive she'd both heard correctly and comprehended correctly.

And after all that, she had no _idea _what to say.

Her mouth was slightly open, and she just stared at Ginny for several more seconds until she finally shook her head a little bit. "Did you take a test?"

Ginny turned her lips inward and shook her own head. "I'm scared," she said quietly.

That seemed to knock some sense back into Hermione. She seemed to snap immediately back into the rational, responsible person that she was. "Ginny, you have to take a test," she said firmly.

"Why?" She seemed terrified and defiant all at the same time, and Hermione fought the urge to reach over and shake her.

"Because you can't just not know!"

"You mean because I can't keep playing, right?" Ginny sent her a rather dark look, and Hermione wondered why the hell her head was going thereat _this _moment.

She ignored her and shook her head. "Because you have to _know!" _she replied, ignoring the previous question. She let out her own breath that she wasn't even aware she was holding and then caught Ginny's eye again. She tried to focus her attention on staying as calm as possible. "Okay, why do you think you're pregnant?" She decided that rationality was the only way to make any sense of the situation.

Ginny, though, just looked at her like some sort of idiot. "Because I'm four days late," she said pointedly. "That's never happened to me."

Four days. Four days wasn't really _that _much. "Maybe you're just ill," Hermione said, grasping for any straws she could reach. "I mean, you've been tired, right? And you said you haven't been feeling well…" Her voice trailed off as Ginny's look of idiocy grew. Even as she was saying the words, she could hear the stupidity of them.

Wow.

_Pregnant._

"You just…" She struggled to find something to say. "Do you want me to do the test for you?"

Ginny looked like she wanted to say no, but she knew better. She wasn't stupid. So finally, she frowned deeply and looked away, nodding regrettably.

There was a spell that would tell the results. Hermione had never actually _performed _it, as she'd never had a need for it. Still, it seemed relatively easy, and she was fairly positive that she could manage it without trouble. She swallowed and nodded.

They walked in silence back through the flat to the bedroom. Hermione's wand was lying on the desk, and she picked it up nervously. She noticed all the paperwork sitting out and realized that she'd temporarily forgotten to be stressed out about the committee. It suddenly seemed very trivial next to the prospect of a baby.

"You ready?" she asked, turning back around to face Ginny who now looked like she was on the brink of throwing up. She said nothing in response, just closed her eyes and nodded. Hermione took a deep breath and then muttered the spell, brushing her wand quickly in Ginny's direction.

And there was nothing to do but wait.

It didn't take long, a minute tops, but it seemed as if four eternities passed. They both stood completely still and silent as they watched the wand and waited for it to change colors. Red or black. There were only two options. A red tip meant pregnant, a black tip meant not pregnant. They said nothing, just stood and watched nervously.

Red.

Hermione stared at the wand for a few seconds before finally lifting her eyes to look over at Ginny. She was staring at the wand, too, though her eyes seemed to have no intention whatsoever of moving. She had her eyes forced wide in what was obviously a very pointed attempt at not bursting into tears. She wouldn't look up at Hermione, either. She just kept staring at the red tip and then finally uttered a single word.

"Fuck."

Hermione didn't know whether to offer congratulations or condolences. Ginny certainly didn't look like someone who wanted congratulations- she looked like someone who'd just been given the worst news of their life.

She looked like someone who was twenty-two and had just had all their dreams ripped away in one swoop second.

"Ginny…" Hermione's voice trailed as she realized she had nothing at all to say. What was there to say?

Pregnant.

"Do it again!" Ginny's voice rose drastically, and she looked at Hermione appealingly.

"Ginny." She looked at her sympathetically, but Ginny wasn't having it.

"Do it again!" she demanded, and Hermione sighed reluctantly as she once again waved the wand and muttered the spell.

Red.

"Use my wand!" Ginny was nearing hysteria now, and she sounded absolutely ridiculous. Hermione tried to relay this in her look, but she was ignored. Instead, Ginny shoved her own wand into Hermione's free hand and motioned hastily at her.

Red.

"_No!" _Ginny sounded pitiful.

Hermione tried to put herself into her place. She tried to imagine how she would feel if the situation were reversed, and her own results were showing up bright and clear at the tip of a wand. She would be terrified. But she would also be a little bit excited… A _baby. _She wanted a baby someday, it wouldn't be the _worst _thing in the world if it happened now. It wouldn't be _ideal, _but she would be okay. Ron would be shocked, but it wouldn't take him long to come around- she didn't think anyway. They would deal with it.

But Ginny didn't seem even the least bit excited or happy at all. She was on the verge of tears. Hermione wasn't sure if she'd even felt sorrier for anyone in her whole life.

"How can this be happening?" Ginny asked, finally looking up with something close to anguish in her eyes.

"It'll be okay." Hermione didn't know what else to say.

Ginny, though, just shook her head in disbelief. "I don't even know what's going to happen!"

Assuming she was referring to her relationship, Hermione rushed to reassure her. "Harry will be fine. He'll be shocked at first, but he'll be fine."

"I'm not talking about _Harry!" _Ginny looked at her as though she were stupid. "I'm talking about my _career! _My whole future! What am I supposed to do?"

So they were there again. It scared Hermione a little bit that Quidditch seemed to be Ginny's first and foremost concern in the wake of her pregnancy news, but she was willing to overlook it. Ginny was most likely in shock, and this was really huge news. It made sense that she would be speaking irrationally.

Still, Hermione was nothing if not extremely rational.

"You need to tell them as soon as possible," she said gently. "You can't play anymore."

She didn't expect the evil glare that came in response to her very obvious reply. Ginny looked ready to hit her or something. She didn't, though; instead, she just kept on with the irrational ramblings.

"I don't have to tell them right now," she said, looking away as though she were concentrating hard on something. "I probably won't start showing much until after the season's over, they might not even notice!"

"Ginny!" Hermione was horrified. Shock or no shock, Ginny was just being plain dumb now. "You _cannot _play while you're pregnant, and you know that!"

Ginny seemed quite intent on arguing, though, and defending her stance. "Why not? Maybe this baby wants to be a professional Quidditch player when it grows up! Maybe it'll help it!"

She was hysterical.

She had literally snapped and gone completely mental within the course of a couple of minutes. Hermione stared at her in shock, wondering what the hell she was supposed to do or say. Ginny was wide-eyed and anxious, and she was speaking complete nonsense. There was nothing to do for it except _try _and talk sense.

"Because it's _dangerous!" _Hermione snapped back angrily. "Stop being stupid."

"I'm not stupid!" Okay, so that was obviously the wrong thing to say to a hormone-driven woman who'd just received what appeared to be the worst news of her life… Ginny glared at her all over again. "Don't act like I'm crazy just because I'm concerned about my future!"

Hermione wanted to scream. She was trying very hard to be sympathetic, but Ginny was making it incredibly difficult. She could not _believe _that the first reaction someone could have to a baby would be how it would ruin their career. It was the most selfish thing she'd ever heard of, and she was quickly losing her patience.

"What kind of future do you think that baby's going to have if you get hit by a Bludger or fall off a broom?" she hissed. "Now stop it."

Ginny momentarily looked decently ashamed of herself. She shut up at least, and her face went from wide-eyed hysteria back to downcast and scared. There was silence for several long seconds until she finally mumbled, "I don't know what to do…"

Hermione sighed. She changed back to a quiet, soft tone and tried to be gentle. "Ginny… If you don't want to have the baby… don't have it."

The words hung in the air as they both weighed the implications of them. Hermione felt a little bit uncomfortable even suggesting it, but she felt it needed to be said. Ginny finally bit down on her lip, though, with tears in her eyes and said, "My mum would kill me…"

"It hasn't got anything to do with your mum," Hermione replied back, her voice as soft as she could make it. "It's your decision."

But Ginny shook her head. "No, I can't do that."

Hermione lifted one shoulder, indicating that least the option was there if she felt the need to consider it.

"I'll just…" Ginny's voice trailed as she tried to get her thoughts in order. "I just have to figure it out."

Hermione felt bad for her. As irrational and selfish as Ginny's immediate reaction had been, she could understand why she would be scared and incapable of thinking clearly. A baby was a giant step, and Hermione had yet to even hear Ginny mention the possibility. She assumed that Ginny, just like herself, probably only thought about kids in the future tense, so she could understand why having all of that shoved into your lunch at once might be a bit overwhelming.

"Just talk to Harry," she said gently.

"He's going to hate me, too…" Ginny's eyes cut away with her voice.

"He won't hate you!" Hermione shook her head in disbelief. "What has he got to hate you for? He won't. You can figure it out together."

Ginny didn't look convinced, though. In fact, her eyes were now welling with thick tears, and she was extremely close to simply bursting into tears. Hermione couldn't blame her much, as she expected that she'd be crying, too, if she'd just been informed of a surprise pregnancy. She couldn't think of anything worth saying that would actually _mean _something, so she just took a step forward and wrapped Ginny up in a tight hug.

That did it.

The tears broke free, and Hermione could feel them soaking through her shirt. She was thankful that Ginny wasn't sobbing hysterically or anything, but that fact did little to quell the uneasiness of the situation. There was very little to be said, and they both knew it. So Hermione just hugged her and let her cry for a few minutes until Ginny finally pulled back, wiping at her eyes.

"Please don't say anything," she said quietly, carefully avoiding any and all eye contact. "I just need to work it out…"

Hermione nodded. "Just go home and think. And let me know if you need anything, alright?"

Ginny nodded, wiping at her eyes once more. "I'm sorry I was so hysterical…"

"Don't apologize. You've got reason to be in shock, that's for sure."

"I just… I didn't think this would happen now." She was speaking so quietly that she was practically in whispers. Hermione pushed some hair out of her face and tried to force on an encouraging smile.

"Just let me know if you need anything," she said again. "And don't worry, everything's going to work itself out."

Ginny had no reply to that, probably because telling her not to worry was currently on the same level as telling her not to breathe. It was impossible. Hermione knew this, but she didn't have anything better to come up with. It was the best she could do.

Ginny left shortly after that, and Hermione wasted no time in doing some Disapparating of her own. The proposal and the committee report lay forgotten on the desk as she appeared right in front Weasley Wizarding Wheezes. It occurred to her that she had sworn secrecy not ten minutes before, but it didn't stop her. She had loyalty to Ginny, yes, but her main loyalty lay with another Weasley who she didn't normally make a habit of keeping secrets from. Especially secrets _this _big.

He noticed her as soon as she entered the shop, and she caught Ron's eye from the door right away. He was alone at the counter, and she hurried over to him, completely ignoring one of the shop girls who tried to tell her hello.

"What's wrong?" Ron sounded immediately concerned, but she wasn't too surprised, considering the fact that she'd threatened him with bodily harm earlier that morning if he disturbed her mid-preparation. She'd made no secret that she needed absolute solitude, so she wasn't shocked that he immediately assumed something was wrong.

"I have to tell you something," she said a bit breathlessly as she glanced around behind her to make sure no one was eavesdropping or listening in.

Ron just raised his eyebrows.

"It's a secret," she added quickly. "A _big _secret."

"Well, what is it?" He was becoming slightly annoyed with her, and she could tell. Oh, well. Once he found out what she was on about, he'd understand.

"Swear you won't tell," she demanded instantly.

"You know I won't."

"Swear you won't tell _anyone. _Especially Harry," she added, suddenly thinking of the worst case scenario. Ron would keep any secret she told him, and she knew that. But she was a bit worried that this particular secret would shock him so much that he'd unintentionally let it slip to the absolute worst person.

"Hermione," he looked at her, completely confused. "Just tell me what happened."

"_Swear," _she said seriously.

"Fine, I swear!" He looked at her as if she'd gone absolutely mental. "Now tell me what you're on about."

Hermione looked around. It didn't seem as if anyone was listening in, but you could never really be too careful. Deciding that she shouldn't take any chances, she grabbed Ron's hand and immediately tugged him into the back storage room. She checked around each shelf to make sure no one was hiding or eavesdropping. Ron looked at her as if she'd lost her mind.

"What is going on?"

She took a deep breath and glanced around once more to make sure they were alone. "Ginny's pregnant."

There was silence in return. She watched his face carefully, trying to catch his reaction. He was very calm, and he actually showed very little reaction.

At first.

"Ginny?" he asked, his voice eerily even. "My little sister?"

Hermione couldn't stop the eye roll before it happened. "Of course your sister! How many other Ginnys would I be talking about?"

Ron just looked back at her for several more seconds. Then, apparently, he chose to employ disbelief. "But she can't be pregnant," he said calmly. "She isn't married."

Hermione debated for a few seconds on how best to respond to this idiocy. Finally, she decided on, "Oh, do you just think that birth control is built in until the wedding? Just automatically?"

Mentioning birth control was apparently enough to make him snap, though, because his eyes narrowed, and he got a very angry sort of look on his face. "I'll kill him," he said, dead serious. "I'll fucking kill him."

Hermione had a vision of him doing just exactly like that, as she knew how rash and unreasonable he could be in moments of passion. So she quickly put an end to that. "Ron, stop it," she said firmly, holding up a hand to grab his upper arm and stop him from doing anything rash. "You swore you wouldn't say anything."

"He got my baby sister _pregnant!"_

"First of all," Hermione said reasonably, "Ginny is far from a baby. And secondly, you _promised _me." That was the part she stressed because she knew perfectly well that he wouldn't openly break a promise, and she could hold him to that if nothing else.

He glared at her, but he couldn't say anything back because she had him on that. She'd been smart to make him swear before telling him. He could glare all he wanted, but there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

But she had a feeling that Ron's reaction was just the tip of the iceberg…

This news was going to turn plenty of people on their ears.

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A/N: Thanks for reading! Sorry for the delay. I've been busy, but now I'm back! Please review.


	8. The Start of Something

**BACK TO THE BEGINNING**

**Chapter 8**

**Start of Something**

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Ron was not used to coming home to an empty flat.

He normally worked rather late, either closing the shop or leaving just a bit before. When he got home, Hermione had usually beat him and had sometimes been home for hours. True, she'd been working later the past few weeks, but it was still rare for him to make it home first. The day of her committee, though, she left well-before he was awake and still wasn't back when he got home. That meant one of two things, he supposed- either she had something to celebrate or she had something worth drowning her own misery over.

All the lights in the flat were off when he got home, and while it wasn't _completely _dark, it wasn't too easy to navigate, either. So he really shouldn't have been too surprised when, on his way back to the bedroom, he tripped over something large and furry and damn near broke his ankle.

"Sodding cat!" he snapped, reaching down to grab his foot, which had turned nearly completely over as the stupid animal ran between his legs. Crookshanks glared at him and then turned a nose up in the air and stalked off unaffected. Ron had a great urge to grab a book off the end table and hurl it at him, but he didn't figure Hermione would take too kindly to that. Though she ought to feel lucky he let her keep the damn thing in the first place! That animal was a menace to society, and he still hated Ron as much as he'd done the day they met.

And the feeling was quite mutual.

Just to be a bastard, Ron waited until the cat traipsed breezily into the bathroom, and then he yanked the door shut tight, trapping the little fucker in. He could hear loud, annoyed mewing from the other side of the wood, but it did nothing more than amuse him. He would just have to make sure and let him out before Hermione…

Was home.

The popping noise of Apparition startled him slightly, but he didn't have a chance to set Crookshanks free from his brief prison before footsteps came hurtling down the short hallway.

"Ron!"

She looked breathless, much as if she'd just run a marathon or something, and her eyes were practically popping out of her head. He could tell it was good news from the look on her face.

"They passed it!" She practically squealed with excitement before she literally threw her arms around his neck and jumped into his arms. He caught her easily, of course, but she made no effort whatsoever to lower herself back to the ground. Instead, she shoved her face so tightly into his neck that he wondered how she was even breathing.

"That's great!" He wasn't even lying or faking enthusiasm. It was a bit difficult to get overly-excited about house-elves, but it was easier when she was so excited. It was cheesy, but seeing her happy really made him happy.

"This is so fantastic!" She sounded as if she might literally burst with excitement as she pulled her head back and looked straight at him, arms still clamped around his neck and feet still inches off the floor. "It means it's really happening!"

"Yeah, that's amazing!"

She smiled so widely that he thought her cheeks might crack. Then she squeezed him tightly and once again smothered her face into his neck before finally lowering herself back to the ground and releasing her grip.

"This is going to change _everything _for them," she said breathlessly. Her cheeks were pink with excitement, and she just looked so happy. "This is really going to happen!"

"And just think," he said, squeezing her hand. "You did it all by yourself!"

"I was so nervous…" She let out a huge breath. "I thought I was going to mess up. Or that they were going to think I was stupid or something."

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I'm sure people often think stupid when they meet you…" He shook his head. "I knew you'd be brilliant!"

She smiled again, so wide and perfect. He wanted to grab her up and just kiss the hell out of her because she was so beautiful. He didn't get a chance to, though, because a loud, annoying _mewing _interrupted them. Hermione's face turned into confusion for a few seconds as she looked around for the source of the noise. She finally spotted the closed loo door, though, and opened it. Crookshanks immediately darted out, and she scooped him up protectively.

"Oh, baby!" she cooed gently, cuddling him against her chin. "Did you get locked in there? Poor thing!"

Ron watched as the cat literally lifted its head, turned toward him, and hissed evilly.

Hermione looked confused again for maybe half a second before rounding on him furiously. "Did you put him in there?!"

"No," he lied, but even he could hear how unconvincing it was. Hermione glared at him, and he rolled his eyes.

"Be nice to him!" she said angrily. "I've told you a million times not to harass him!"

"Why don't you tell _him _not to harass _me!" _he snapped back defensively.

Hermione fixed him with that complete-Hermione look that just oozed that of a person resisting eye rolling. "Ronald," she said slowly and with forced control, "he's a _cat."_

"A fucking _demon _cat maybe."

"_Ron!"_

He actually jumped at the tone her voice took. She was staring at him with wide, angry eyes. He scowled back at her. "Oh, come off it," he said, shrugging disinterestedly. "That cat hates me, and you know it."

"No, he doesn't," she said firmly, running her chin over the top of Crookshanks head once again. "You're his daddy, he loves you."

Ron fought the urge to gag, and he didn't even have a chance to refuse before Hermione shoved the cat at him. He had hold of him for about two seconds before he felt a claw dig into hand and heard another loud hissing. Crookshanks went flying- well, truthfully, he was probably more thrown… Hermione was _furious. _She chased after him as he took off running, and Ron followed, grumbling the whole way to the bedroom. He sighed in annoyance as Crookshanks leapt onto the bed and settled in snuggly. Right on Ron's pillow. The silencing glare he got from Hermione kept him from protesting, though, and he pursed his lips tightly.

"I hope you're nicer to our children," she said lowly, with her arms crossed and pointedly not looking at him.

"I hope our children aren't possessed by Satan," he muttered back.

"Speaking of," she said, her voice changing as she turned to look at him, apparently forgetting all about being angry with him. "She still hasn't told him."

Ron didn't even try to fight the immediate grimace that filled him. She was talking, of course, about Harry and Ginny, which wasn't, by any means, his favorite topic of conversation. He'd yet to see Harry in the two days since Hermione had confided Ginny's secret. He was glad, too, because he wasn't sure he'd be able to resist hexing the balls of the git. What kind of shit would knock up his best mate's baby sister? Bastard.

"Does she plan on waiting until the kid's here?" he asked bitterly.

Hermione just shrugged. "I think she's just scared."

"She needs to be!" he said hotly. "They're both idiots!" He shook his head and sighed loudly. "There is one good thing about it, though."

"Yeah?" Hermione looked halfway amused. "What's that?"

He tried and failed to not mirror her smirk. "Once Mum hears about this, she's going to think _we're _saints."

Hermione laughed, and he couldn't help it- he laughed, too. "You're right," she said seriously. "She can't say anything to us now."

"Finally! _I'm _the good kid, and Ginny's the fuck up!"

"Ron." She tried to frown and shake her head disapprovingly, but she couldn't even force herself into it. She knew he was right. This was a major development, even if it _was _forced out by something as major as a pregnancy. Still, she gave up on her temporary humor and said, "She really is going to kill them, you know?"

"Who, Mum?" She nodded. "Yeah, she's _definitely _going to murder them… But she needs to! They're both idiots!"

"It was just an accident…" Hermione's voice trailed off, and he noticed that she looked conflicted. She looked sort of as if she would like to pass judgment but also a little afraid to. He understood, he guessed, seeing as how there was always the _possibility _that it could happen to them. But, of course, Hermione was very nearly obsessive about that sort of thing. That was one of the best things about Hermione- she was extremely organized, extremely attentive, and _extremely _responsible. Of course, those traits could also be negative in some situations… but when it came to birth control, they were definitely a positive.

He tried to imagine if they _were _in that situation, though. What would happen? They'd deal with it, he guessed… But it was a lot easier to imagine reactions to situations when they were purely hypothetical than when they were actually happening. Hermione had her life planned out to the hour, so he didn't think she'd react too well if something were to happen to mess all that up. She wanted her name on an important piece of legislature. Check. She wanted to eventually be married. She wanted two kids- a girl and a boy, two years apart- sometime before she was thirty but not until she was past twenty-five. She wanted a high-ranking position in her department. She wanted to teach the kids at home until it was time for Hogwarts. And then eventually she wanted to do something _huge, _though she hadn't quite worked out the details of exactly what yet. So barring a few fuzzy details here and there, she knew what she wanted, and he was pretty positive she would probably get just that. She had a way of making things happen the way she wanted. And judging from the fact that she'd just accomplished the first step on her list, he was even surer than ever.

"You know what?" he asked, pushing those thoughts out of his mind for the moment. "I want to take you out!"

"Out where?"

"Anywhere," he shrugged. "Anywhere you want to go."

"Ron, we don't really have a lot of money…" She looked touched but conflicted. She was smiling gently.

But he wasn't going to let her talk him out of it. "You just accomplished something really important, and I want you to celebrate. Because I'm so proud of you!"

He smiled at her and watched as her gentle smile turned into something more genuine. She looked grateful and happy and really like she was just as in love with him as he was with her. He was serious when he said he was proud of her. Everything she did was amazing, and he always wanted her to know just how amazing she really was. He would give her anything in the world if he could, so he took advantage of the rare opportunities when he was actually able to do something for her.

"I'm just not sure if we should waste the money," she said again, smiling now but still sounding a bit conflicted.

"It's fine," he assured her. "I'll pick up some extra time or something."

"You're already working open to close practically every day!" she said, looking up at him with a more serious sort of face. "You're going to exhaust yourself."

"It's fine," he shrugged it off. "_I'm _fine. We'll make it work." He reached over to touch her cheek gently. "Just decide what you want for dinner, and I'll make it happen."

She hugged him again, tightly and happily. "You're my favorite person in the entire world!"

He laughed, wondering if it were somehow possible to make proposals of hers magically pass every day, so that she would be this giddy all the time. If he could hold her to the 'favorite person in the entire world' thing, all sorts of things were possible. Of course, he was quite sure she'd hate him again within the hour, but he could take advantage of it in the meantime.

She kissed just like she did everything else- with complete precision and attention. It didn't really surprise him, of course, because she was fairly perfect at everything she did, but it also didn't stop him from enjoying it. She kissed him back almost right away, and he was more than happy to oblige her when she moved her hands from around his neck and up into his hair. She was in a good mood, and he could tell by how aggressively she was being.

"You like me, too, right?" she teased as she suddenly pulled back a few inches and looked at him pointedly.

He just shrugged. "Sometimes."

She laughed and moved to smack him in the chest with both hands, but he caught them up and walked her backwards a few feet. The back of her knees hit the bed, and she had no choice but to sit down. He joined her and moved in to kiss her again, thinking he could take advantage of both the fact that she was in such a good mood and also that they were both home at some sort of normal hour. She didn't seem to mind and followed his lead, moving her hands to a very inappropriate, though delightful, place.

But, of course, they were interrupted by a very loud meow.

Hermione pulled back first and turned her head to look at Crookshanks who was still perched importantly on the pillows. Ron couldn't really believe she was going to say it until she actually said it.

"He looks so comfortable…"

That was it. Ron rolled his eyes so far back into his head that he had a brief glimpse of his mum shouting at him that they'd get stuck like that. The image of his mother killed the last shred of it anyway, destroying the tiny bit that even Crookshanks hadn't managed to yet ruin. And it was over.

"Are you _serious?" _he asked in disbelief.

Hermione's forehead narrowed, and she set him with a very cross sort of look. "Well, there's no point in disturbing him. I mean, look at him, he just looks so comfortable right there…"

"You love that cat more than me," he accused.

Hermione rolled her own eyes at that point and stood up, effectively murdering any and all chances he had of talking her back into it. "Oh, stop being such a baby," she snapped. "Besides, I thought we were going to dinner anyway."

"We could have gone later."

"Or we can go now," her tone stopped being so hateful and turned back coaxing. She turned until she was standing directly in front of him and put her hands on his shoulders. "And by the time we get back, Crookshanks'll be ready for his bed."

"And ours'll be empty?"

She nodded. "Right."

She smiled at him again, and he couldn't be annoyed with her when she looked that cute. Plus, she was in such a good mood that he couldn't find any real desire to argue with her. In fact… He wondered if her current mood would help him in bringing up something he'd thus far been wary of. It could go one of two ways, he supposed. It could help. Or it could totally ruin the entire evening. Still, he didn't know when he'd have a better opportunity. He was never going to be able to rightly predict her reaction, so he thought now was as good a time as ever. Possibly even better.

"What do you think about the Aurors?" he asked carefully, looking up to where she was standing with both hands still on his shoulders.

"What do you mean what do I think about them?" She shrugged a little. "They're fine, I guess."

He realized he'd asked the question stupidly, counting on her to be part mind-reader. "No, I mean, what would you think if… I tried that?"

She just looked at him for several moments, and he wondered what was going through her head. "Is that what you _want _to do?" she asked.

He nodded, wondering if she thought he was an idiot. "I mean, you know that's what I always wanted to do…"

She nodded, too. "I just didn't know if it was still something you thought about."

"I just feel like it's time for me to do something else. I've helped George out for years now, I think I've done enough."

"You have. I just… You haven't talked about the Aurors in a long time."

She was reacting nearly exactly the same as Harry had. That wasn't necessarily a _bad _thing. But she wasn't exactly jumping for joy, either. It was hard to read what she was really thinking, and he didn't like that.

"I've been thinking about it a lot lately," he said quietly. "I just want to do something."

He was thankful that he didn't have to explain himself further than that because she understood what he meant with that. She smiled at him. "If you want to do it, you should do it."

"I might not even get in."

She shook her head and bent down just enough to kiss him quickly, not moving her hands away from their current position as she stood back up. "You'll get in," she said certainly. "And you'll be brilliant."

She made him feel better definitely, but he checked to make sure she was being honest. "You don't care?"

"I don't want you to go away," she admitted. "But it won't be for long. And it'll be worth it."

"It'll really help us."

She nodded. "And I want you to do something you really love."

She was being sweet, but he couldn't help the nasty smirk that hit his face. "If that was true, you'd kick Crookshanks out of the bed."

Hermione rolled her eyes so far back into her head that he had to stop himself from giving his mum's advice and letting her know that they'd likely get stuck like that. She straightened all the way up with a dignified sigh and turned away to the closet. "You're impossible."

"And yet, I'm still your favorite person in the entire world," he said, standing up from his spot on the bed.

She rummaged through the hangers full of clothes. "I can easily take that back."

"But you wouldn't," he teased, joining her at the closet. "Because deep down inside, it's really the truth."

She wrinkled her nose at him and tossed her hair. "You don't _know _that."

"Yes, I do."

He caught her up by her waist and spun her around until her back was to the clothes. He leaned in to kiss her tightly, and while she resisted for maybe two seconds, she finally gave in, wrapping both arms around his neck and pulling him closer as her head got lost between the clothes. If she was going to make him wait all through dinner, he was going to get in what he could beforehand.

"I do want you to do it," she said seriously a few moments later when she pulled back slightly. Her eyes swept over his face, and she looked a bit thoughtful for a couple of seconds. "I know you'll be amazing whatever you decide to do."

He kissed her again, wondering how it was possible for one person to be so impossibly perfect all the time. He didn't even care if it sounded stupid. He just loved everything about her, and all he wanted to do was just spend forever with her.

Even if she _did _like the cat more…

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A/N: Thanks for reading!! Please review.


	9. Plans and Panic

**BACK TO THE BEGINNING**

**Chapter 9**

**Plans and Panic**

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Harry had a feeling something was wrong.

He could tell because Ginny avoided him for a solid week. With his new schedule, they weren't seeing each other as often as before, but he still made a habit of talking to her at least once or twice a day. She was currently making herself completely unavailable, though, and he knew something was up.

He worried that she was going to break up with him. He couldn't think of anything specific that had happened that might have caused the sudden change, but he also couldn't imagine any other reason she'd be so set on avoiding him. He figured that she was waiting until the weekend to break the news to him in person and was spending the meantime doing her best to avoid any and all contact with him. This thought alone almost made him cancel the weekend visit. He didn't want to be dumped. Not only that, he didn't want to break up with her. He was perfectly happy, and he couldn't imagine that she didn't feel the same. In fact, the idea that she wanted to break up with literally made him ill, and he woke up Saturday morning feeling as if he could vomit straight away. Still, he went about his morning routine as usual and made his way to her flat as planned.

She was cleaning up the kitchen when he arrived, and she greeted him timidly. He went over to kiss her, and she returned it awkwardly for about three seconds before pulling away and returning to the dishes. He watched and wondered why she was washing them the Muggle way- she never did _anything _the Muggle way. He wasn't even aware that she knew the Muggle way _existed. _

"You okay?" he asked, careful not to sound too abrasive. He was extremely nervous and half-expected her to spin around and tell him that she'd decided to run off and marry a Quidditch groupie called Marvin or something.

But she didn't. She just shrugged hastily and muttered a quick, "I'm fine."

He thought about leaving it alone, but the awkward silence was killing him. "I haven't been able to get in touch with you all week…"

She didn't look over at him. She just kept scrubbing the same bowl over and over. "I was really busy. We had a lot of press."

"Oh." He didn't know what else to say, so he waited a few seconds and then said, "Hermione's proposal passed. Did you hear?"

"Yeah. That's great." She didn't sound the least bit enthused.

"Yeah, she's really excited…" he said slowly. He felt weird even trying to keep up a normal conversation when she clearly had no interest whatsoever in joining in.

There were several more long moments of nothingness as she scrubbed and scrubbed away at the few spare dishes in the sink. He watched her and said nothing until she accidentally dropped a glass, shattering it all over the floor.

"Shit!" She jumped back at the commotion, narrowly avoiding the shards of glass that flew everywhere. He watched in shock as her eyes literally welled up with tears.

"Ginny, it's okay," he said slowly, wondering why in the hell she would get so upset over a broken glass that she would actually cry about it. He cleaned the mess up with a single wave of his wand, but it didn't stop the tears from spilling down her cheeks. "What's _wrong?" _he asked, moving toward her carefully.

But Ginny said nothing. She just shook her head and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

He didn't know what was wrong, but he also wasn't too keen to stand around pretending everything was fine, either. If she was going to dump him or whatever, he'd rather her go ahead and do it. And if it was something else, she shouldn't keep it from him. They weren't supposed to have secrets, and he didn't want any.

"Ginny," he went on, his words still coming rather slowly. "What's wrong? If something's happened, you should tell me."

She didn't say anything, but she did start crying more fully. He couldn't understand what was going on, and she herself seemed confused by her reaction. She looked worn out and exhausted, and he wondered if it was just making her overly-emotional or if there was something else, something seriously wrong. He just stared at her, waiting on a response. When she gave none, he reached out for her shoulders, but she backed away almost instinctively.

Now, he was _very _worried.

He stared at her, wondering what the hell was going on. She looked away from his gaze and kept crying. He had no idea what was meant to have happened.

"Did I _do _something?"

She looked miserable, but she finally spoke. "I have to tell you something…"

Her voice was low and worried, and all he could think about was the worst case scenario. Something horrible must have happened, and his mind started racing with the possibilities. She was definitely going to break up with him, and she was about to let him know as much.

"Just tell me," he said, and he didn't mean for his voice to sound as irritated and hastened as it did. He couldn't help it, though. How was he supposed to sound when she was taking forever to break the bad news?

"Don't be mad at me," she said quietly, her eyes darting to the floor.

"Tell me what's going on."

"Promise you won't be mad," she said again, and this time, she looked back up at him pleadingly.

How the fuck was he supposed to promise her that he wouldn't be angry when she was about to tell him that she was running off with Marvin from the Tutshill Tornadoes? Was she _serious? _He could tell from the pleading look in her eyes, though, that she wasn't about to tell him until he agreed to promise that he wouldn't be mad. So he did. Even if it was a lie.

"I won't be mad."

She didn't believe him, and he didn't blame her. His tone hardly sounded convincing, but she apparently realized that she was asking a lot more than she had a right to. She was getting more than she could hope for just by him lying about it.

She took several deep breaths, as if steeling herself for the break. He watched as her eyes looked everywhere but at him. And then he heard the words.

"I'm pregnant."

Two words. Two simple words. And just like that, he felt like the whole world had been pulled out from under him. He heard them roll over and over in his head, like a scratched record that kept repeating itself. But no matter how many times the words flashed through his mind, he couldn't really believe them. There was no way that she was serious. She couldn't be _pregnant. _They weren't ready for something like that.

"Say something."

He looked up at the sound of her voice, realizing that he'd been standing in silent shock for what could have been a few seconds or a few hours. She was staring at him warily, but he couldn't make out her expression. She looked worried, but he couldn't tell if it was because of what she'd just said or if it was because she was scared of his reaction.

He had no idea what to say. He had no idea about anything right at the second. He was in shock. He didn't know how he was supposed to react or what he was supposed to say. He couldn't even comprehend the situation, much less make sense of it…

"Are you… Are you sure?" he asked finally.

She just nodded, and he watched as she started crying all over again. He felt bad that he hadn't had a better initial reaction, but he was so confused that he didn't know any other reaction to _have._

"I don't know what to do…" Her voice broke off with her tears, and he instantly felt awful for her.

Instinctively, he went over and put both arms around her. She didn't pull away this time and, instead, seemed to fall straight into him. She was crying fully now, and despite the fact that he was inwardly freaking out, his first instinct was to take care of her.

"Everything's going to be okay," he whispered to her, and when she shook her head in disagreement, he just gently petted her head. "I promise, it's going to be alright."

"Do you hate me?" she sounded very young and scared, and he just shook his head and whispered to her.

"Of course not." He kissed the side of her cheek gently. "Ginny, we'll figure it out…"

She was crying openly now, and she finally hugged him back. He could feel her whole body shaking, and he wondered what he was supposed to do. Mostly, he wondered what the hell was going to happen now. They didn't know anything about being parents… They weren't ready for this yet… What were they supposed to do? Pretend like everything was going just the way they planned?

"I can't play anymore," she mumbled, her face pressed into the front of his chest and her arms wrapped around him desperately. He hadn't had time to think that far into it yet, but she was right. She couldn't be pregnant and play Quidditch. She also couldn't leave right before the end of the season and expect her spot to be waiting for her when she was able to play again. He was a little surprised that this seemed to be her main concern, but he also didn't know that it was. Just because it was the only thing she was saying now didn't mean she didn't have a billion other concerns running through her head. He didn't know how to make her feel better.

"It's all going to be okay," he promised, trying to sound as sincere as possible.

"I didn't mean for this to happen," she said quietly, and again, she sounded extremely young. "It was just an accident…"

He didn't know what she was on about. It wasn't as if the thought of it being on purpose had even crossed his mind.

"We'll work it out," he said quietly, rubbing a soothing circle on her back.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, and he could hear the tears through her words. She was clinging to him now.

"Ginny, don't apologize," he said. "It's going to be okay."

She kept crying, and he just hugged her. He didn't know what else to do. She wasn't normally a very emotional person at all. He could count the total number of times he'd seen her cry on one hand. He hadn't seen her this upset in years, probably not since Fred died… She was usually very thick-skinned and rarely let things get to her on this level. He understood now why she'd been avoiding him, though. She was clearly terrified out of her mind, not to mention devastated. He felt horrible that she'd been dealing with this alone, and he wished he could have been there for her from the start.

"Does anyone know?" he asked quietly.

"Hermione."

Her answer came muffled, and he couldn't help the twinge of resentment that he felt. Hermione knew about it before he did. He knew he shouldn't be upset, but it did bother him a bit that Hermione knew about his baby before he did- it also bothered him that he had seen her every day this week, and she'd looked him in the eye normally every time as if nothing was wrong. He could also assume that if Hermione knew… Ron knew as well. He wasn't sure why it bothered him more that they had kept the secret than it did that Ginny had, but he couldn't help feeling annoyed by it.

Perhaps that's why when Ginny announced that she was going to take a shower, he lied and said he'd forgotten something at work. He said he'd only be a little while and said he'd come straight back, and she nodded listlessly before disappearing off to the bathroom. And then he left straightaway.

He wasn't sure why it was his first urge, but he figured that a lot of it probably stemmed from the fact that he couldn't very well go off on or to Ginny at the moment. Not when she was in the middle of having a mental breakdown anyway. Plus, Ginny was terrified to tell him. His friends didn't have that excuse. They'd just kept it a secret because… well, he didn't know why.

He arrived at their flat and banged roughly on the door. He'd learned his lesson about Apparating straight in years ago when he'd accidentally seen something he had no interest whatsoever in seeing. Since then, he'd been extremely careful when arriving unannounced and always made sure to knock from the outside.

It didn't take long for the door to be answered. Hermione looked at him questioningly, still dressed for bed despite the fact that it was nearly half ten. Apparently they were having a lie in and do nothing day while he was having his whole world turned upside down.

He didn't wait to be invited in. As soon as he saw that she had clothes on, he walked straight in, and she shut the door behind him.

"What's wrong?" she asked, redoing the latch as he turned around to look at her incredulously.

"You knew!" he said hotly. "You knew, and you didn't tell me!"

Hermione knew what he was referring to, and she stared at him warily for a very long moment. Then she swallowed and straightened up a bit. "She asked me not to say anything."

"How long did you know? All week? You knew all week, and you just let me go on as if nothing in the whole bloody world was wrong?!"

"What's going on?" Ron had rounded the corner and was now staring at the both of them strangely. Harry looked at him for a moment and then turned back to Hermione.

"She asked you not to say anything… I bet you told _him, _didn't you?"

"No!" Hermione answered right away, and he couldn't even tell if she was lying. He eyed her suspiciously and then looked over to Ron.

"How long have you known?"

"Known what?"

"Ginny's pregnant!" Hermione broke in, and he just barely caught the quick look that passed between them. That right there alone proved that she was lying, but he still asked Ron again anyway.

"So how long have you known that?"

"I didn't." His voice sounded forced, though, and he didn't look exactly surprised. And he sounded _far _too calm.

"I don't believe you," Harry spit out, sending him a short little glare, which was apparently enough to push Ron straight into the reaction he'd been _wanting _to give all along.

"You know what? Fuck off!" His own glare was probably twice the one Harry was managing, and if he weren't so pissed off, he might actually be scared of it. "What does matter how long we've known? You're the one who did this!"

"It matters because you're _supposed _to be my best friends!" Harry shot back angrily.

"Yeah, and yet that didn't stop you from knocking up _my _little sister when she's not even married yet!"

Harry rolled his eyes and resisted the urge to tell Ron exactly how _stupid _he sounded because he didn't trust him at all not to turn around and punch him. He'd have a hard time explaining to Ginny how he got a broken nose on his brief trip back to the office. It didn't matter, though, because Hermione jumped back in just in time.

"Stop!" she said to both of them, stepping between them. She apparently sensed that someone was about to get hit and knew that neither of them would throw any punches if she was in the middle. She looked at Harry sincerely. "Look, I'm _sorry _I didn't say anything. But she asked me not to, and it wasn't my place to tell you." He glared at her some more, and she went on. "What would you have done?" she asked. "What if it were me? And I'd told you or told Ginny and asked you not to say anything?"

"It wouldn't have _been _you," he shot back lowly. "You would have told the truth straight away. She just _lied. _She just lied to me all week…"

"Don't call my sister a liar!" Ron sounded furious now, and Harry was just about at his breaking point with him anyway. Hermione spun around to face him quickly.

"Ron! Just…" She shook her head meaningfully and then calmly turned back to Harry. "She was just scared, Harry. She wasn't tying to lie, she just… didn't know what to do."

He wasn't aware that his eyes were watering until just that second. He'd been dealing with all of his emotions as anger, and he'd missed completely that he was also extremely upset. It all seemed to hit him at once, though, and he suddenly felt like he couldn't breathe. It was as if the whole situation suddenly hit him straight in the face, and the impact was far more powerful than any punch he might receive.

"_I _don't know what to do," he said seriously, and his voice wavered dangerously. "What the hell am I supposed to do?"

Hermione looked sympathetic and concerned, but she also looked just as confused as he felt. She lifted one shoulder. "I don't know," she said quietly.

"You should marry her, for starters!" Ron broke in. He apparently hadn't noticed the sudden drop in tone because he still sounded as angry as before. Harry wanted to hex him but didn't because he didn't feel like it was a conducive reaction to the current situation.

Besides, his words hit him in the gut.

Marry her. They had to get _married. _Now. He wasn't sure why the thought terrified him so much. It wasn't as if he hadn't _thought _about marrying her before; they'd even talked about it on occasion. But it was always in the future tense. It wasn't something that either of them were really ready for right now. They were still young- twenty-two and twenty-three were still _young. _But as not ready as they might be for marriage, they were even _more _ill-prepared for parenthood. And now they had no choice about that.

They needed to grow up. _Fast._

He literally felt like he couldn't breathe. It was all hitting him at once, and he didn't know whether to scream or to cry. Regardless, he was nearly positive that either option was not an appropriate reaction to just finding out that you're going to have a baby. People were supposed to be happy when that happened, and even as deep as he could reach, he couldn't find any semblance of happiness. All he could find was terror and confusion and devastation. And judging from Ginny's earlier reaction, he was very sure that she was only finding the same emotions. That wasn't right. People were supposed to be happy about babies, _excited. _He just wanted to wake up and find that it was all a dream.

"You need to talk to Ginny," Hermione said gently. "You can figure it out together."

But he didn't want to talk to Ginny. Now that he'd gone from quiet supportive to angry outrage to pure and utter terror, he wasn't sure that he could have a logical conversation with her anymore. Not at the moment anyway. She was a hysterical mess, and he couldn't trust himself not to join her now. But he also couldn't just leave her alone. He had to be there for her and _with _her to find out what she wanted to do.

"It's going to be okay." Hermione was still speaking quietly, and he looked up at her to see that she was staring at him very seriously. "I know it's a big deal, but it's going to work out."

"We can't have a _baby," _he choked out. "We don't know anything about that!"

"You'll learn," she said firmly. "Just go talk to Ginny. This is something you need to be talking to _her _about, not us."

She was right, of course, but she usually was. He didn't know what to do, though. He actually wanted to cry, but he knew he couldn't. He had to be the strong one because as scared as he was, he imagined Ginny was probably feeling it ten times worse. But he didn't know how to suddenly make himself okay with the situation. He didn't know how he was supposed to be strong for her when all he wanted to do was freak out.

But he had to.

This was _his _problem and _his _responsibility, and he had to figure out what to do about it. He had to be an adult and deal with this. He didn't have time to sit around and be upset about it because this was a very serious issue, and he had to handle it.

Even if it _was _the worst possible situation.

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A/N: So a much quicker update that time!


	10. Fights and Fiascos

**BACK TO THE BEGINNING**

**Chapter 10**

**FIGHTS AND FIASCOS**

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They'd been planning the anniversary party for weeks, and it had finally arrived.

Ginny certainly wasn't in the mood for a party, but she couldn't exactly skip out on it, either, seeing as how it _was _her parents' thirty-fifth wedding anniversary. She'd done as little as possible in helping with the preparations, which didn't seem to bother anyone too much. Fleur and Audrey wanted to take care of everything anyway, and they only invited other people's input because it was required. As long as she pretended to be involved, it was enough to keep them happy and off her case. Still, she wasn't able to avoid the actual party, so she showed up to the Burrow right on time and wondered how long she had to stay before she could make a legitimate escape.

Harry was with her. They'd met up before and arrived together. It was the first time they'd actually seen each other since the previous weekend when she'd initially dropped the bomb on him. They'd spent that whole weekend just talking and trying to convince themselves that everything was fine. The week that had passed in between had brought back up all the same dread, though, and now she was just as nervous and frightened as she'd been before.

She was also sick.

Morning sickness had set in, only it seemed to last straight through the morning, all day, and into the night. There was never a time when she didn't feel nauseous, and she could hardly eat anything without vomiting it straight back up. It was getting so bad that even certain smells were sending her rushing for the toilet. It was disgusting, and she hated it. She was already in a constant state of a rather foul mood, so being sick all the time did little to improve that. Still, she'd done her best to look presentable- put on a dress, fixed her hair, even put a bit of makeup on. She'd thought it might help her feel better, but she was wrong.

The Burrow was already crowded by the time they arrived. Friends and family were filling the garden, but the chilly spring evening air didn't seem to be deterring them any. Ginny, however, was freezing and kept her sweater pulled tightly as she looked around.

"There're a lot of people here," Harry said lowly in her ear, and she nodded. It was true. She knew most of them, but there were a few unfamiliar faces. She mostly saw extended family members who only showed up at weddings and funerals and, apparently, anniversary parties. She knew it would only be a matter of time before those people spotted her. They would fawn over her and, more specifically, Harry, and she wasn't particularly in the mood for a ton of fake affection.

"I'm really cold," she said, looking at him. "Let's go inside."

He nodded and followed her into the house through the backdoor. The kitchen was less crowded, and the people in there were far less likely to fawn. In fact, they were anything but star-struck, and Ginny almost wished she'd stayed outside because the second they entered, they were being ordered around.

"Oh, Ginny," Audrey said breathlessly. "Finish up this roast while I go check on the seating. Harry, you can come help me."

Ginny glanced over at him and saw that he was resigned to do whatever he was told, even though it was clear that he didn't want to. Ginny hated being relegated to the kitchen simply because she was a girl, but she was too tired to fight that battle now. Instead, she looked at the huge dish full of pork and vegetables sitting on the counter and felt immediately ill.

"Audrey," she said slowly, looking over at her sister-in-law pleadingly, "I don't really feel well."

"Stop being a baby," Audrey snapped back. "There's a ton to do, and since no one wants to _help _us, we're doing it all on our own."

Ginny wanted to tell her to go fuck off and remind her that she didn't _want _anyone's help, but she was almost sure that if she opened her mouth to speak at that second that she'd end up spewing all over the floor. Harry tried to come to her rescue.

"I'll do it," he said quickly, moving over to the counter, but Audrey wasn't having it.

"No, I need your help in the yard. Everyone else seems to have conveniently disappeared."

He looked over at Ginny, but she just shook her head resignedly. "It's fine," she said quietly. "I can do it."

He was worried about her, and she could tell. In order to prove that she was alright, she walked over to the dish and started adding more of the freshly-cut vegetables. She held her breath so as not to smell it until finally Harry had followed Audrey outside. The second the door shut, she let out her breath and turned away.

"Fleur, please," she said desperately. "I can't do this."

Fleur was tending to the desserts, and she looked over at her crossly. "What is ze matter?"

"I… I'm just sick," she said lamely. "I don't feel well."

"You look ill." Lovely. Coming from Fleur, that was not a sympathetic sentiment- it was a direct comment about the travesty of her appearance. She tried to glare, but it just made her eyes water.

"Where's Hermione?" she asked, stepping away from the roast and its smell.

Fleur lifted one shoulder. "I 'ave not seen 'er."

Great. Even Hermione was abandoning her to this hell. Still, though, Fleur did look a _bit _concerned.

"Per'aps you should lie down. You should not be around ze food."

Ginny had never liked Fleur more than she did in that second. She smiled gratefully and turned back to the counter to place the knife back by the vegetables. The second she turned, though, she was met with a strong whiff of the roast's scent, and before she could stop herself, she felt bile rising up the back of her throat. She couldn't choke it back down, so she flung her head over the sink just in time. Fleur gave a little shriek, and Ginny wanted to die. Luckily, she wasn't sick for long, though that did little to make her feel better as she lifted her head and looked down at the mess in the sink.

She felt Fleur's hand on her shoulder and watched as she reached around her to turn the tap on, washing away the sick down the drain. Then she turned Ginny to face her and wiped at her face with a rag. Ginny was surprised. She'd figured that Fleur would view vomit as something completely disgusting and unladylike, but perhaps becoming a mother had made her immune to vile bodily fluids.

"Are you alright?" she asked, and Ginny was surprised to hear that her voice actually sounded concerned. Her eyes were watering, and she nodded listlessly. Fleur studied her, looking at her closely and rather sharply. Still, she pushed some hair behind her ear concernedly. "What is ze matter? Just a flu?" She looked at her pointedly. "Or somezing else?"

Ginny knew Fleur rightly suspected that it wasn't just a common illness. Having recently had two children of her own, she was probably well on about the symptoms. Still, Ginny wasn't going to admit anything. She just stared back at her blankly, wondering how convincing she would sound if she lied. Luckily, she didn't have to, though, because the backdoor opened once more, and Ron entered. He looked over at them with a confused look on his face. Clearly, he wasn't used to seeing Fleur holding a wet rag to Ginny's face of smoothing out her hair.

"What's wrong?" he asked, eyeing them both.

"Your sister is sick," Fleur said bluntly. "Take 'er to lie down."

"I'm fine," Ginny said defiantly, not wanting to give Fleur any ideas that she might actually be right with her suspicions.

But Fleur wasn't having it. "Go," she said sharply. "If you are ill, you should not be around ze children."

Ginny didn't have it in her to protest any further. Truthfully, she didn't _want _to be around the children. They would just remind her that there'd be one more for their numbers in a few short months- one more that _she _was responsible for. She took the offered wet rag from Fleur and followed Ron as he led her out the other door. He didn't say anything to her, and she was glad for that. He knew, of course. She hadn't told him, but it was useless in pretending that either Harry or Hermione hadn't. So there were four total of them who knew. That was too many, but there was nothing much she could do about it.

They went upstairs to what used to be her bedroom. She still stayed there occasionally whenever she let her mum guilt her into it. Sometimes she'd go for dinner, and she'd hear constant drones of, _'Oh, I wish you could stay…' _over and over until she'd finally give in and just spend the night. Ron never got talked into staying there. He was better at pretending not to catch obvious hints than she was, and he always managed to return back to his own flat rather than to the attic bedroom at the Burrow.

He still wasn't speaking to her as they climbed the stairs. She was in the front now, but she could feel him glaring at the back of her head. He was angry with her apparently, though she hardly saw what he had to be angry over or how it was even any of his business.

"You don't have to go with me," she said, breaking the silence. "I know the way."

"Fleur told me to take you," he answered back, and his voice sounded rough and defiant.

"Oh. I forgot she was your boss."

He grumbled something that she didn't care to hear, and then they reached her landing. She pushed open the door and walked into the tiny bedroom. Kicking off her shoes, she turned around to shut the door, but Ron was standing there blocking it. She tossed the rag onto her bedside table and crossed her arms.

"Just come out and say it, Ron," she snapped. "Whatever's going through your head. Better out than in, yeah?"

He said nothing, and she rolled her eyes.

"I know you know, okay? Whatever, I knew somebody would tell you, you can stop acting dumb. The little bit that _is _an act anyway."

That was enough to do it. He took a couple more steps into her room and shut the door tightly behind them. He looked at her like he wanted to shout at her, and she waited patiently. She was in the mood for a good fight, and Ron was one of the few people in the world who could, and indeed _would, _give her that.

When they were kids, they fought incessantly. A lot of this was due to the fact that he was really the only one who would always fight with her willingly. The twins would pick on her sometimes, but when it came to actually fighting, they usually reserved that right for Ron, probably because they could actually hit him and get away with it for the most part- if they hit _her_, they'd be in far more trouble. The rest of her brothers, though, rarely argued with her or even picked on her. But Ron never had any problem fighting with her, even if it did usually land him in lot deeper trouble than it did her. They were so close in age that he never really looked at her as being helpless and defenseless like the majority of her older brothers apparently did. In fact, she and Ron had even been forced to share a room until they were about six and seven. He never catered to the little baby sister thing like the rest of them did, and she was glad for it.

And it didn't seem like he was prepared to cater to it now, either.

"I just don't know how you could be so _stupid!" _he said hotly, glaring at her.

She glared straight back. "Don't you dare pass judgment on me! You're no fucking saint, Ron, it could just as easily have happened to you!"

"But it didn't!"

"Yeah, well, sorry we can't all be as brilliant as _Hermione," _she spit out.

That did it. The easiest way to get to Ron was, and always had been, to throw Hermione into it. He was fiercely protective of her, and it still amused her to this day that he could get so incredibly defensive over her when he himself had always been the main offender when it came to saying less than nice things to her and about her.

"You leave Hermione out of this, alright?" he snapped. "It hasn't got anything to do with her."

"It hasn't got anything to do with _you, _either!" She shook her head rapidly. "Just like it's _never _had anything to do with you! This is between me and Harry."

"Well, like it or not, he's my best mate and you're my sister, so it _has _got something to do with me! I'm not going to just sit back and say nothing as you two fuck your whole lives up!"

"Oh, so that's what you think?" she asked hotly. "You think we're fucking up our lives?!"

"Well, what're you going to do? You aren't even married!"

"I know that," she hissed, and she glared at him as she squeezed her fingers into a fist in an attempt to get her temper under control. "I know I may as well just be some common whore for all intents and purposes!"

He didn't say anything, just looked at her. She knew she was being dramatic, but so what? She was pregnant, she was _allowed _to be dramatic. She wanted him to yell at her some more, but instead, he actually looked concerned. That pissed her off more than anything because she wanted a fight, not sympathy.

"Look," he said firmly, though his voice was much less harsh now. "Harry's going to take care of it. He may be a fucking idiot, but at least he's a good guy."

She fought the urge to roll her eyes. She couldn't help being bitter over _that, _either. "Right. It couldn't just be someone normal, could it? Had to be _Harry Potter!"_

He looked at her as if she'd lost her mind, and maybe she had. She didn't care too much at the moment. "Ginny," he said slowly, "you made that decision a _long _time ago."

He was right, of course, but it didn't mean it made it any easier. "Can't you just imagine what people are going to say?" she asked hysterically. "The press is going to _love _this!"

"Who gives a shit what people say? Since when have you cared about what people thought?"

"Everyone cares what people think! If they say they don't, they're lying." She drew in a breath in an attempt to at least _somewhat _calm herself. "This is going to be _hell, _Ron."

He looked conflicted. She could tell that part of him wanted to keep raging at her and tell her a few more hundred times how stupid she was, but he was also feeling that instinctive twinge of older brother protectiveness. He didn't look as if he knew _what _he wanted to say.

"It'll be fine," he finally said lamely. "Once you get used to the idea, it won't be so bad."

She didn't want to cry, but she couldn't help the tears that started to well up in her eyes. She knew it was ridiculous because she'd spent two weeks crying now. She hadn't done much of anything else actually, considering the fact that she'd called in to work continuously for illness. She was sure that her team thought she was dying or something, but she didn't know what else to do. The second she put in her resignation, the story was going to break. There would be no way of stopping it, and even if she managed to keep it secret for a little while longer, there would be loads of speculation to make up for it. So for the moment she was just claiming an illness and spending all her time curled up in bed crying. It wasn't very productive, but she didn't have too many other options.

"Don't cry, alright?" he said, the look on his face giving away his awkwardness. "It's going to be okay."

That was well easy for him to say when he didn't have to worry about having a baby unplanned or facing a whole world of tabloid press that was going to rip him apart and call him everything from a slag to a gold-digger to a manipulative whore who traps world heroes by getting knocked up. She could just imagine the headlines…

"I don't know what to do," she admitted quietly. She was trying very hard not to cry, but it was difficult. And her eyes were still watering dangerously. Ron looked uncomfortable and sort of as if he wished he'd never been such a dick to follow her up here in the first place. She couldn't help it, though, and she felt a few tears leak out. "And Mum's going to murder me…"

He didn't say anything because he knew she was right. She was more concerned about what might come out of her mother's mouth than she was about anything the tabloids could come up with. Her mother was very old-fashioned and didn't think that people should do anything along the lines of having children and that sort of thing before they were married. She constantly got on Ron's case just because he was living with Hermione. To her, it was highly inappropriate and not the way she wanted people to think she'd raised her children. It was stupid, of course, because living together didn't mean they were doing anything more than any of the rest of them were doing or had done, but their mum didn't look at it like that. Ginny hated to think how she'd react to an unplanned, out of wedlock baby. It was going to be a disaster.

Finally, Ron sighed loudly. "She'll get over it," he said quietly. "She won't have any choice. It's happened. She'll just have to deal with it- _everyone _will."

"You don't think Harry hates me, do you?" she asked nervously. She wasn't sure where it came from, but it had been bothering her from the beginning. Logically, she knew that he didn't hate her. He had no reason to hate her. Still, she couldn't kill the nagging feeling that he would blame her for this and hold a grudge against her.

Ron, though, seemed to think the question was just as idiotic as it sounded. "Of course he doesn't hate you! What reason has he got to hate you? It's not like you did this on your own."

"It was just an accident." She didn't know why she felt the need to keep repeating that sentiment, but it made her feel better. She knew that most people were going to whisper behind her back- or perhaps right in front of her face- about how she must have done it on purpose in a bid to lock him in permanently.

"Ginny, look," Ron said bracingly, and he gave her a steely look as tears continued to splash down her cheeks. "It's going to be okay, alright?"

And then he hugged her.

She wasn't used to him hugging her or even being halfway decent toward her. Still, she couldn't remember feeling anything nicer in a long time. She felt safe and _protected. _Even if he _was _the world's biggest prat, Ron was also her big brother. And there were few things better than being looked after by a protective older brother. He held her and said nothing, and she just cried into his shoulder. She felt her breathing slow down to normal, and she started to feel a bit better. Still, she was terrified, and when she got her breathing back controlled, she spoke again.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do with a _baby…"_

Her voice trailed off when she heard a familiar gasp coming from behind Ron's back. She jolted straight up, and so did he. They were both shocked, as neither of them had heard anyone approaching or even the door opening. But they'd apparently just been in oblivion, though, because their mother was standing in the doorway watching them.

Ginny wanted to die. Literally. She honestly wished that something would happen to strike her dead right there. She couldn't think of any worse possible situation to be in at the moment, and she was too shocked and terrified to even cry now. Her tears seemed to have frozen themselves as she looked straight at her mum. The look she was getting in return was one of many emotions- anger, hurt, betrayal, shock… Ginny didn't know what to say.

"Mum…"

"You better be lying," her mother broke in sharply. She was glaring at her now, daring her to defy and say that it was the truth. Ginny didn't want to tell the truth, but how was she supposed to lie now?

"Mum, I…" She drew in a wavering breath. "I…" Nothing was coming.

"I came up here because they said you were sick," her mother said shrilly. "If you've got something to tell me, you better say it right now."

Ginny just stared at her, feeling as blank as her gaze.

"Ginny," her mother's voice was one of eerie forced control. "Are you pregnant?"

Hearing it out loud like that from someone else's mouth made it seem all the more real, and Ginny closed her eyes briefly, trying to work out what she was supposed to do next. She suddenly felt extremely ill again, and she opened her eyes to glance over at Ron who was watching her carefully. Knowing she had no other choice, she turned back to her mum and very quietly said, "Yes."

An awful eternity of silence followed, and Ginny wished she were anywhere else in the world. She watched as her mother's glare turned stony and unmoving. She could _hear _the tension in the air, and it seemed to pound at her ears. She thought she might pass out, but eventually she got a response.

"How could you _do _this?" Her voice was low and scary, and it made Ginny want to cry all over again. "What are people going to _say?"_

"Mum, lay off." Ron spoke up suddenly, and he sounded half pissed off and half annoyed. "She doesn't need that right now."

"Oh, like you've got room to talk!" Ginny watched as her mother rounded on her brother instead. "You've set a fine example for her! Living the way _you _do."

Ron's mouth literally dropped open. "Are you _serious?" _he asked incredulously. "This… _This _is _my _fault?!"

"Well, you've hardly been a good role model for her! She's your little sister!"

Ginny couldn't take it anymore. "I'm not a _child, _Mum!" she very nearly shouted. Realizing that her bedroom door was open and that there was a houseful of people downstairs, she lowered her voice. "I don't need a role model. I'm not a little girl."

"Well, I should say not," her mum huffed. "Little girls don't run around getting knocked up before they're even married!" Ginny gritted her back teeth during the very brief pause. "Who's the father?"

Now it was Ginny's turn to drop her mouth. "_What?!" _she asked, outraged. "What do you _mean _who's the father? It's Harry, of course!"

"Well, I was just checking!" Her mum crossed her arms defensively. "Nothing would surprise me right now."

"Oh, my god." Ginny let out a humorless laugh of disbelief. "I can't…" She shook her head in shock. "Oh, my god."

Ron stepped in for her. "Just leave it, Mum," he said testily, and he put an arm protectively around Ginny's waist. "You're making it worse."

The glare they both got in return was downright scary, and Ginny half-expected them to get walloped 'round the ears for being disrespectful. But, of course, they didn't. Their mother just stared at them sneeringly for several long moments as if she couldn't believe she'd raised such insolent, immoral children. Ginny felt herself moving closer to Ron instinctively, and the arm around her waist tightened slightly. And then, without another word, their mum just shook her head in disgust and left them alone, slamming the bedroom door behind her.

Ginny started crying again the second she was gone, and Ron turned her until she was facing his chest again. He let both arms fall around her waist, and she cried into his shoulder for a very long time.

"She'll get over it," he said quietly, repeating his earlier statement. "It'll be fine. And look, now the worst is over, right?"

He was trying to make her feel better, but it wasn't working. She didn't think anything would work right at the moment. She was in shock, stunned and horrified. It had been worse than she'd even imagined- barely a couple of minutes and decidedly the worst of her entire life. She didn't know how things were going to be fine.

She didn't know if they'd ever be fine again.

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A/N: Another quick update! Long holiday weekend! Please review, it makes me happy!


	11. Leveling the Liberation

**BACK TO THE BEGINNING**

**Chapter 11**

**LEVELING THE LIBERATION**

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Hermione was beginning to get worried.

She'd been cornered by Fleur and put in charge of the roast that had apparently already been twice abandoned. Audrey had run off to do god knows what, and Ginny had apparently taken ill, vomited in the sink, and gone upstairs with Ron. This was the version Hermione had been given anyway. Fleur kept looking at her pointedly with strange eyes that were perhaps supposed to hypnotize her into spilling some secret. By the fifth time that she had reiterated Ginny's sickness, Hermione was fairly certain that Fleur had a very strong and accurate suspicion about exactly what was wrong with Ginny, though she wasn't going to come right out and say it. She was apparently just going to continue to try and trick Hermione into letting it slip. Hermione, of course, was determined to play as stupid as possible.

Instead of giving in, she busied herself with the roast. It was going to turn out complete crap, of course, because the one thing she wasn't good at was cooking. She'd never been able to make a decent meal, and she certainly wasn't looking forward to revealing this fact to the whole lot of people who had shown up for the anniversary party. Still, she didn't know how to get out of it, either. Fleur would start shouting at her if she tried to leave the kitchen, and, truthfully, she felt a bit bad about not helping out more already. But she was beginning to wonder where the hell Ron was and why he hadn't yet shown up to rescue her.

She thought perhaps that her prayers were being answered when the backdoor opened, but she was rather put out to see, not Ron, but his mother enter. She was dressed up and looked happy and excited. She smiled at both the girls and asked if she could do anything to help. Fleur, of course, shook her head rapidly.

"No, no. We 'ave it under control. You enjoy ze party."

Hermione wondered when Mrs. Weasley had decided to like Fleur, but she supposed everyone was rather used to her now. And honestly, Fleur was about a million miles better than Audrey, so it really wasn't _that _bad.

"Well, let me know if you need anything," Mrs. Weasley said brightly. "It smells delicious!" She smiled sweetly at Hermione in a way that let her know she was about to be criticized before she placed a hand 'helpfully' on her back. "But dear, you ought to cut the carrots in the other direction. You get more flavor that way."

Hermione forced herself to smile gratefully and not to open her mouth and say exactly what she was thinking… which was somewhere along the lines of _shove off. _She wasn't going to do that, though. She was far too mature for that.

"And where has Ginny got to? I haven't even seen her." Mrs. Weasley asked, flicking her wand around Hermione to set the onions chopping even smaller.

"She's sick," Fleur spoke up at once, and Hermione watched as she looked pointedly at Mrs. Weasley, as if checking to see if _she _had any obvious reaction.

But, of course, Mrs. Weasley knew nothing of the 'illness' and was simply just concerned for her daughter. "Sick? Oh, no, what's wrong?"

"She 'as got ill all in ze sink," Fleur said. "I think per'aps she has a flu."

"Oh, I should check on her!" Mrs. Weasley wiped her hands on a towel and headed out of the kitchen. Hermione spoke up quickly to try and stop her.

"No, I'm sure she's fine! You know the smell of peppers makes her ill…" Her voice trailed off as she realized how completely stupid this sounded. It may have been an adequate excuse to use with Fleur, but Mrs. Weasley would surely know if Ginny had any strange pepper aversions. And Hermione was met with exactly the same sort of confused look she expected to be met with.

And then she was left all alone in the kitchen with Fleur again who continued to shoot her suspicious looks. Hermione went back to the vegetables, determined not to give anything away. Occasionally, a visitor would happen through the kitchen. Some were lost, some were nosey… Some were just Victoire and the other kids who were just being loud and obnoxious. Fleur shouted at them in French, and they all ran away.

Eventually, though, Mrs. Weasley showed back up. She stormed into the kitchen from the sitting room and stopped for a full fifteen seconds to glare, yes, _glare _directly at Hermione. She was fuming over something, and it wouldn't have taken a genius to figure out what. Still, Hermione wasn't sure exactly what it had to do with her… She stood frozen in her spot until finally, Mrs. Weasley shot her one final glare and stormed out the door into the garden.

Hermione was stunned. She didn't know what to do or say and could only deduce that somehow the news of Ginny's pregnancy _must _have gotten out. She could feel Fleur staring at her, too, obviously waiting for her to say something. She had nothing to say, though. She just silently placed the knife she was currently using to chop vegetables down on the counter, wiped her hands, and then left the kitchen. She passed the kids again, but she didn't even bother stopping to scold them as Victoire held Dominique down for Teddy to torture with some type of bug that definitely should not have been inside the house. She was just turning up toward the stairs when she literally bumped straight into Ron. He grabbed her elbow, steadying her and making sure that she didn't fall over.

"Let's get out of here," he said gruffly, scowling meanly.

"What happened?" she asked, glancing behind her to make sure they didn't have an audience. They were alone except for the kids. Dominique was now screaming, though, and Teddy and Victoire seemed to find their game even funnier.

"Mum found out. And just so you know," Ron said, looking straight at her wide-eyed, "Ginny being pregnant? _Our _fault."

She just raised her eyebrows questioningly.

Ron, though, nodded. "Yeah. Because w_e _aren't setting a good example."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Her mouth dropped open, and Ron rolled his eyes.

"She's even got _you _swearing!"

Hermione hadn't even realized that she'd sworn. The fact that she could slip the F word so casually into a conversation without even noticing scared her a bit. Spending all that time with those boys was finally catching up to her.

"But… That doesn't even make any sense!" She couldn't understand.

Ron just shrugged dramatically. "I've been telling you for years that that woman is crazy!" he hissed. "She blames me for _everything! _It doesn't matter what it is. _Oi! _You kids, shut the hell up and get out of here!" he barked out of nowhere when Dominique's squealing became particularly high-pitched. Teddy muttered something in response that sent Victoire into a huge fit of giggles. Hermione didn't even want to know… Luckily, Ron didn't seem too interested, either. The older kids disappeared together quickly, but Dominique stuck around whining and whimpering until Hermione finally picked her up just to make her quiet.

"So seriously," Ron went on carelessly. "Let's go. I don't want to be here."

She understood completely where he was coming from. Still, she was sensible enough to realize that wasn't a plausible reaction. "Ron, we can't just _leave."_

"Why not?"

"Because it's your parents' anniversary party!" She shook her head rapidly. "We can't just up and disappear."

"I don't see why not."

She sighed loudly and irritably. She didn't have to give an explanation, though, because Harry showed up suddenly. He looked confused as he came over to them. "Where the hell have you been?" he asked, glancing around. "I thought everyone left and ditched me here!"

Ron, though, looked at him seriously. "Look, mate, if you know what's good for you, _you _need to leave."

Harry was confused, and Hermione didn't blame him. Ron was speaking in a way that made this sound like a murder mystery or something. "What's going on?"

"Mum found out… about _you know," _he said cryptically, eyeing Dominique as though the barely two year old was eavesdropping purposely with all intents of running to the newspapers and blabbing the stories. However, the baby didn't seem interested at all in what any of them were saying; she was twirling and untwirling one of Hermione's curls around her finger intently without an obvious care in the world. Ron didn't seem to care about this and kept treating the situation as if there was some sort of war spy in their midst. "And trust me, she isn't happy."

"But…" Harry looked half-panicked and half-bewildered. "How did she find out? Who told her?"

"No one told her," Ron said, rolling his eyes all over again. "She heard me and Ginny talking. And she's _really _pissed off."

"Where's Ginny?"

Ron shrugged. "Upstairs. Puking or something, I dunno."

Hermione felt like her head was about to explode. She didn't understand anything that was going on, and she finally said so. "Okay, just tell us what the hell happened!"

Both Ron and Harry stopped for a second and looked at her. She realized that she was quickly losing her natural composure, and they were both giving her looks that might otherwise have been amused if they weren't all in a very serious situation. It took Ron a few moments to get his thoughts back together and start again.

"Okay, Ginny got sick in the kitchen, so I took her upstairs. She started getting all upset about… _you know-" _Dominique now had her head laid against Hermione's shoulder and was sucking on her fingers sleepily- "So anyway, I was trying to help her out, but Mum showed up and heard us talking. And she asked Ginny if it was true, and Ginny said yeah because she couldn't lie obviously. So Mum was furious and started going all mental, and then she told me that I should set a better example and be a better role model and that basically it's all _my_ fault!" His voice kept inching higher and more quickly, just as it always did when he was especially excited or angry about something. By the time he finished, Hermione was surprised he had any breath left at all.

Harry just had the same look he always had on his face after a particularly difficult Potions exam- one of complete bewilderment.

"But… I don't understand… That… doesn't make any sense."

Ron shook his head. "Of course it doesn't. But that's Mum for you, isn't it? And I've got a feeling, she's probably looking for you. I don't think it'll be pretty when she finds you, so you ought to cut your losses and leave now while you've got a clear exit."

"No one's going anywhere!" Hermione snapped, and even Dominique shot straight up in attention to her tone. Hermione petted her head gently until she laid it back down, and then she lowered her voice. "Look," she said with forced calm, "she's not going to make a scene here tonight. It's her party, and there are a million people around. If we all start disappearing, _that's _going to make people suspicious. They'll know something's up, and they'll start talking."

"Easy for you to say," Ron shot back. "You've never been on the receiving end when Mum decides to rampage. Neither have you," he added to Harry. "But trust me, and you can ask Ginny, she goes absolutely mental, and she'll just say anything that pops in her head. Doesn't matter what it is. You _don't _want to be around for it if you can avoid it."

Hermione felt like she wanted to rip her own hair out. She couldn't understand why it was so bleeding difficult for Ron to just understand simple logic once in awhile. It wasn't like she was asking for much. All she needed was just a teensy bit of common sense. But no, he couldn't even manage that! She didn't know why she was surprised. Ron had been that way for as long as she'd known him. It was part of the package, she supposed, but it didn't make it any more sensible.

"We are not leaving," she said slowly and pointedly. "And neither are you," she added to Harry. "Besides, if we leave, that's just giving in."

"Giving in to what?"

"To your mother!" she said, completely exasperated. She heard her own voice rise just a bit, and she glanced around quickly to make sure no one was listening. "I'm sorry, but I've just about reached the breaking point! We're all adults, and we can all make our own decisions! I'm sick of her thinking that she can bully us into doing things just because _she_ thinks they're the right things. We're not kids, and it's about damn time she realized it!"

Harry and Ron were both staring at her as if _she'd _just been the one to go completely mental. There was a long, shocked silence, and Hermione felt her cheeks heat up just slightly as they both stared at her in shock. She hadn't even realized she had that much to say until she started saying it. It felt good to get it out, though, and she couldn't deny it. The stunned silence ended, though, when Ron reached over and took Dominique from her before turning right around and quickly handing her off to Harry. He turned right back to Hermione, grabbed both her cheeks in his hands, and kissed her tightly.

"I love you," he said seriously a moment later when he finally released her.

She felt her cheeks heat up even more as Harry made some sort of disgusted noise in the back of his throat. "Oh, god. Seriously? For fuck's sake!"

"Ooooooh…" Dominique had straightened up again and was now staring at Harry in wide-eyed shock from her place in his arms. He stared at her and then rolled his eyes.

"Oooh what?" he snapped.

Hermione rolled her own eyes and reached over for the baby. "Stop arguing with the two year old, Harry," she said briskly before carefully setting Dominique back on her feet. "Go find your sister," she told her gently and then watched her nod and run off. Ron and Harry were both looking at her questioningly as she straightened back up. "Now come on," she told them. "We're going to figure this whole thing out."

She led the way up the stairs, and both the boys followed her. She felt suddenly very triumphant, as if a floodgate had opened that was freeing all sorts of pent-up feelings. She'd been trying to be sensible and mature and had ended up suppressing a lot of things she'd wanted to say for a very long time. It felt amazing to finally be on the way to getting them all out in the open, and she couldn't help the tiny smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth as she ascended the stairs.

When they reached Ginny's room, they didn't bother knocking. Hermione went in first, pushing the just barely cracked door all the way open. Ginny was lying on her back, still in her party, dress, staring at the ceiling. She looked terribly depressed, and Hermione felt awful for her. Still, this wasn't a time for sympathy- it was a time for action and for a real plan.

"I'm fine," Ginny said dully before anyone had even asked the question. She didn't sit up, nor did she even take her eyes away from the ceiling.

"Well, that's wonderful," Hermione said flatly. "But we didn't come up here to ask really."

This got her attention, and Ginny barely pushed herself onto her elbows to survey the now roomful of visitors. Harry was the last one in, and he pulled the door closed behind him. "What's going on?" she asked, looking from one to the next and to the next.

"We came up here to make some decisions," Hermione answered. "Decide what needs to be done."

"What do you…" Ginny's voice trailed s she looked at her questioningly.

"Not about that specifically," Hermione replied, answering the unasked question. "That's up to you and Harry. If you want to have the baby, have it. If you don't want to have it, don't. If you want to get married, great. If not, who cares? That's up to you two. And _only _you two," she stressed.

Ginny looked genuinely confused, and Hermione could imagine where it was coming from, so she tried to elaborate. "I just think we need to decide right here and now to _not _put up with this childish manipulation."

"Hermione," Ginny said slowly, "not to be rude, but… What the _fuck _are you on about?"

Sometimes Ginny and Ron were so much alike that it was almost frightening. Not only did she sound exactly like him, but the look on Ginny's face at the moment was nearly identical to the one Ron often had whenever Hermione started talking above his head and purposely confusing him. It would be amusing if it weren't so serious.

"Your mother, Ginny," she answered flatly. "You can't allow her to keep controlling your life."

"She doesn't control my life…"

"Maybe not outwardly, but she's got a lot of influence over you. She's going to tell you everything you should do according to _her _rules, but you're going to have to stand up for yourself and make your own decisions. The longer you allow her to get into your head like that, the longer you're going to be forced to do things her way."

Ginny said nothing, just looked confused and unhappy. Hermione turned her attention then to Harry. "I know you respect her a whole lot, and I know she's the closest thing to a mum that you've got, Harry… But you can't let her tell you what to do, either. You're not a kid. This hasn't got anything to do with her, no matter how she tries to make it out." Harry said nothing.

"And Ron," she went on breathlessly. "I'm not putting up with it anymore. The next time she even _hints _that we're doing something wrong by not running off and getting married, I'm going to tell her exactly where she can shove off." She half-expected Ron to get defensive, but she was pleasantly surprised when he just shrugged nonchalantly.

"Look, I _love _her," she finished up. "And I know all of you do, too, but this is getting ridiculous! She's got every single one of us upset over a situation that hasn't even got anything to _do w_ith half of us! And it hasn't got anything to do with _her, _either, so you two need to stand up for yourselves and tell her to piss off," she nodded at Harry and Ginny. "Make your _own _decisions about what's best for _you. _Your mum will get over it. And if she doesn't… Well, it's going to be her loss, isn't it?"

Everyone just stared at her and said nothing for awhile. They all looked lost in their thoughts, and Hermione wondered how many times she'd managed to offend them in two minutes. She didn't often speak up about her feelings regarding Mrs. Weasley and her incessant need to control every aspect of her children's lives. She certainly never brought it up in front of anyone besides Ron, and even then, she was exceptionally careful, as she knew what a sensitive subject mothers could be. But to her surprise, no one started swearing at her or telling her to mind her own business. They all just looked thoughtful for several long moments until finally Harry spoke up.

"She's right," he said quietly, speaking directly to Ginny. "This is about us."

Ginny nodded and pushed herself all the way into a sitting position as she chewed on her lip.

"And we need to decide for ourselves," he went on. "I mean… this is really happening…" He sounded really lost and a little bit hurt.

Hermione felt bad for him. She felt bad for Ginny, too, who was looking more and more morose by the second. Ron, she noticed, was no longer fuming about the pregnancy situation and seemed to have hit a wall of acceptance and understanding. He seemed to sense her gaze because he looked over and caught her eye. She barely swung her head in the direction of the door, and he followed her silently just as Harry went to sit on the edge of the bed with Ginny. They pulled the door closed quietly behind them once they were alone in the empty hallway.

"You know, I've been waiting for years for you to tell my mum to shove off," he said with just a hint of a smile.

She rolled her eyes, but it was hard to hide her own smile.

"It's probably the most brilliant thing that's ever come out of your mouth."

She fixed him with a look of mock stern. "I happen to be quite intelligent," she said smartly.

He smiled again. "Yeah, so I've heard."

She laughed and shook her head. "I just want her to leave us alone."

"You should definitely tell her that."

"I think all girls are supposed to be annoyed by their mother-in-laws, though," she said. "It's like some sort of law of nature or something."

Ron didn't say anything for a second, though he was smiling quite widely by now. "You want her to be your mother-in-law?"

She shrugged. "Maybe."

"Yeah?"

She grinned. "Yeah."

"When?"

Another shrug. "Soon… ish."

"Sooni-sh?"

She nodded.

"Tomorrow?"

She laughed and shook her head. "Not tomorrow."

"Next week then."

"Okay, next week." She rolled her eyes and laughed again.

Ron kept up the serious act. "I'm going to write it on the calendar. And you know how crazy you go when the calendar's wrong. You'll be bound to it, you know?"

"Shut up." She smirked and grabbed his hand. "Now come on, let's go your dad and suck up to him before your mum gets to him first!"

They laughed together as they headed back downstairs hand in hand. She felt really good inside, and she hoped the rest of them did, too.

It was about time they started taking control of their own lives.

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A/N: Ahhh…. Four in a row! Not bad. I love this chapter. Thanks for the reviews, you guys!


	12. Opinions and Opportunities

**BACK TO THE BEGINNING**

**Chapter 12**

**Opinions and Opportunities**

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Harry was slowly getting used to the idea of a baby.

He wasn't yet to the point where he'd actually call it _excitement, _but he was beginning to think that maybe it wasn't going to be as huge of a disaster as he'd initially judged it. He expected that most of that thinking had just been shock anyway. He was terrified, of course, but he didn't think it was _impossible _to imagine that they could handle a baby. After all, they were young, but it wasn't as if they were still at Hogwarts or anything. They weren't _that _young.

They also weren't poor.

Money was one of the most major concerns of people facing unexpected pregnancy, but they were lucky enough not to have to worry _too _much about that. He had a good bit in Gringotts, and Ginny hadn't done too bad in her short Quidditch career, either. His current position didn't pay _that _much, but it was a decent salary, especially for someone his age. Still, they needed to be prepared for everything, and he didn't mind working extra to make sure they had everything they needed. It was the least he could do, he figured, since Ginny would have to haul the kid around for nine months.

But while money was obviously a major concern, there were still plenty of other things to worry about and figure out. The main thing, of course, was what they were going to _do. _And by do, he meant about _them. _That was the most important thing.

He bought a ring. It was the right thing to do. Or at least he _thought _it was. It wasn't right to bring a child into anything less than a traditional two-parent home. These were his initial thoughts, but the more he considered it, the more he realized that he had no idea _why _he thought that way. Truthfully, the thought of marriage scared him more than the thought of the baby, which was ridiculous because he'd always planned to marry her. For years, he'd never really considered any other future for them- it was just natural. He didn't have an exact timeframe, but in his thoughts about the future, he'd always seen her as his wife and them with a family.

But it seemed a whole lot more daunting when it was right there in front of him.

He'd talked to her about it a couple of times, but she usually changed the subject pretty quickly after a few minutes of noncommittal discussion. She was more interested in discussing things like how they were going to announce it, how the newspapers were going to spin it, and what it would mean for her Quidditch career. He wasn't entirely surprised, of course, because Ginny was used to getting the shit end of the deal when it came to press. They loved to write nasty things about her, and while she was usually able to just shrug it off, he knew that it had to get to her at least a bit. She seemed especially concerned about what they would say once the news of the pregnancy broke, and even though he assured her that no one would think she was a 'gold-digging slag with a calculating agenda,' she seemed to think otherwise and assured him that they most certainly would.

Then there was Quidditch, of course. She'd spent the past few weeks feigning some sort of illness that had taken her completely out of training and off the roster for the upcoming match. The reserve was already confirmed, and people were starting to wonder what was going on. She was being very cryptic about it and trying to get away with answering as few questions as possible. He wasn't sure how well it was working, but what other option was there?

And then, of course, there was her family.

Ron had given up being a twat about it and had apparently decided to just accept it. After the first run-in, Harry was sort of sure he wouldn't make it through the month with his nose on straight and all his teeth in his mouth, but the overprotective older brother thing apparently wore off pretty quickly because Ron now didn't seem to care too much at all now. As far as Harry knew, Ron was still the only brother to know, but that didn't make him feel much better because while the brothers would have been unpleasant for sure, they would have been heaps better than the parents.

He'd been trying and failing to avoid Mr. Weasley all week at the Ministry. It was the most ridiculous thing really because he normally only saw him once every few days in passing. They didn't work in the same area of the building, and it was rare that they really crossed each other's paths too much on a daily basis. However, in the past week, they'd ended up face to face a total of sixteen times. Yes, _sixteen. _Every single time they saw each other, Harry tried to disappear as quickly as possible, but he was never able to miss the evil look that cut into him- the look that just screamed, _'You got my baby girl pregnant, so now I'm going to cut your bollocks off and force feed them to a pack of goats.' _He hadn't _said _that, of course, but then again, he hadn't actually said _anything. _Mr. Weasley hadn't even spoken to him since the anniversary party, but it didn't matter because the glare said it all…

And then there was Mrs. Weasley.

Harry hadn't seen her. Nor had Ginny. Nor, it seemed, had Ron or Hermione. She was apparently giving them all the silent treatment- Ron and Ginny both seemed to agree on that fact. When she was angry, she ranted and raved and shouted and threatened. When she was _past _the point of being angry, she just shut down and refused to speak. The fact that she hadn't sought them out to shriek at them seemed to be assuring Ginny that she was past the point of forgiveness and acceptance.

And that upset her.

She wasn't willing to openly admit it, of course, but Harry could tell. For all of Hermione's points about them standing up to her and making her stop trying to control their lives, Ginny didn't seem too into it. She shrugged it off and just said that her mum _didn't _control her life and that she had a right to be upset because the things her kids did really _did _reflect on her. She tried to justify it, which sort of scared Harry and sort of just confirmed everything he'd always known about her. Ginny had always been at odds with her mum, ever since he'd known her. She'd always done and said everything in her power to prove that she wasn't as young as her mother tried to treat her. Still, she'd always secretly been extremely conscientious of doing everything in her power to please her mother and live up to her expectations, even when they weren't realistic. So the reaction she was currently getting was upsetting her a lot more than she was willing to admit.

Which is why Harry decided to suck it up and make the first move.

He planned the visit carefully, knowing that Mr. Weasley would be at work during the day and knowing that Mrs. Weasley would be at home by herself. He also did his best to hide his plan from Ginny. He'd been spending as much time as possible with her, a lot more than he was accustomed to, so he had to plan everything secretly. He was pretty certain that Ginny would protest him seeking her mum out and would possibly even be angry. He figured that if he could handle it privately, it would be best for them all.

So he took the afternoon off on Wednesday and Apparated to the Burrow. He made up some excuse about having some errands to run and promised to make up the rest of his shift later. No one really questioned him or said too much of anything, and he liked it that way. He wasn't good at coming up with elaborate lies, so it was easier just to be as vague as possible.

Mrs. Weasley was in the kitchen alone when he arrived. He'd contemplated Apparating outside, but he sort of felt as if knocking would make him feel even more awkward than he already did. He hadn't knocked on the door in years, and it would feel downright weird to start now. So he just arrived with an over-acted false sense of normalcy.

She didn't fall for it for even a second.

She was studying a recipe book when he arrived, and she looked up at him with a look of sullen disinterest, as if he had no purpose in her home whatsoever. He tried to pretend as if he didn't notice, but, of course, it was difficult, as he was used to being greeted warmly and brightly and often even with an embrace and a kiss on the cheek. It hurt his feelings more than he was willing to admit that she was so cold now. She was truly the only mother he'd ever known, so he could somewhat imagine what Ginny must be feeling.

"Hi," he said awkwardly, and he heard how stupid it sounded the second it came out of his mouth.

She eyed him and then replied with a very cool, "Hello," as she stood up and went over to busy herself with dishes that were already clean. He didn't know what to say next and stood there like an idiot for several long moments of weird silence.

Finally, he said, "Do you mind if we talk?"

She drew in a breath and pursed her lips before turning her head to look at him. "You're an adult, Harry. I can't stop you from speaking. I can't stop you from doing anything."

She was baiting him, and he knew it. He just didn't know how to get out of it. He went with the play stupid option.

"We haven't heard from you in awhile."

She lifted her shoulders lazily. "Well, it's not as if you care about anything I've got to say, so what does it matter?"

He bit his tongue. He'd expected as much, and he wasn't willing to turn this into an argument. He was trying to make things _better, _and despite what Hermione had said a few days ago, he didn't think the best way to accomplish that was by standing up to Mrs. Weasley and telling her to piss off. He was making an effort, and he was going to do everything in his power to make this situation better.

"I know you're angry…" he said slowly, doing everything in his power to keep his voice as calm and even as possible.

But she just turned her back to him and went back to working. "I'm not angry," she said primly. "I know my opinions aren't wanted, so I've got nothing to say."

"Please don't do this," he said seriously. "You know that isn't true."

"I listened to my very own children say as much."

Harry did not think this was exactly true, though he hadn't actually been in the room during the conversation so he couldn't say for sure. Instead, he chose to ignore the statement and side-step it altogether. He knew he had to be _very _careful with his wording, though, because she was clearly being extremely sensitive and dramatic about the issue.

"We don't want you to be mad," he went on carefully. "We want you to help us…"

She spun around and glared at him rather fiercely. "Well, I want my children to behave like they were raised in a proper home with decent morals, but apparently we don't always get what we want, do we?" She said this very quickly, and Harry tried to appear very neutral. He knew she was upset, so he let her have her rant. When it was clear that she was finished, he replied.

In the back of his head, he could hear Hermione's ever-present nagging. He thought about ignoring it but also decided he wouldn't like himself too much if he did. "We didn't do anything wrong," he said slowly, ignoring the horrible look Mrs. Weasley shot him as he did. "We didn't mean for this to happen. It was just an accident… but I love Ginny."

"Yeah?" She didn't seem too touched by his declaration at all. "Then why haven't you already married her?"

"Because I thought we had _time," _he answered back a bit too quickly. She looked slightly taken aback by that, and he hurried to return to his point. "But that doesn't mean that I don't love her."

It was the truth, too. He'd been in love with her for years, and he'd never even considered any other options since. He didn't need to because she was everything he wanted and everything he really needed. He wasn't stupid enough to think that the hoards of female attention he got was legitimate- he knew perfectly well that the majority of those women would never look twice at him if it wasn't for his name. Ginny was safe, though. She didn't care about any of that and actually liked him for _who _he was.

She'd been there from the start. In all the years they'd been together, he hadn't ever thought about or wanted anyone else. She'd been there for him when he needed her, and she'd been the driving force in him being able to pick up the pieces and move on after Voldemort. He couldn't deny that, and he wouldn't. She had taken care of him and given him everything, and he loved her for it. Plus, he _trusted _her. He didn't fully trust a ton of people, but even when they were just kids, he'd known she was trustworthy. He trusted her whole family, he _loved _her whole family. Strictly speaking, they were the only family he'd ever known, and there was nothing else that was going to replace that. So it was extremely easy for him to fall in love with Ginny and to stay that way.

Her mother, though, seemed less than impressed. "You do realize that the whole world is going to know about this, don't you?"

Of course he knew that. He was used to the whole world knowing every detail of his life. Being the center of public attention was hardly anything new for him, nor was it for Ginny. But he nodded. "They already know everything else," he agreed simply. "This won't be any different."

"And how do you think that's going to make my daughter look?"

Honestly, Harry thought the majority of the world wouldn't give two shits about whether or not they were married. They might try to make the pregnancy out to be something else, but he didn't think that most people in the world were too concerned with out of wedlock pregnancies.

"How do you think that's going to make _me _look?" Mrs. Weasley went on without waiting for an answer. "Everything children do reflects on their parents, and now the whole world is going to think I encourage this type of behavior!"

Harry didn't know why she was trying to make it about herself, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he just said, "I don't think you should be mad at Ginny. This isn't her fault."

She actually snorted in response. "This may come as a bit of a shock to you, Harry, but I've actually had several children myself. I know how it happens, and I highly doubt either of you are faultless in this situation."

She was right, of course, but she hadn't understood what he was trying to say. "I just mean that you shouldn't be mad at her because she didn't choose this. It was an accident, and I don't think you should hold it against her." He didn't think she should hold it against him, either, but he left that point out.

"Well, let me ask you this," she said, finally moving away from the counter and back to the table to sit. She motioned for him to follow when he did not immediately join her. She was staring at him very pointedly and seemed to be trying to read into something. "What do you plan to do now?"

"I want to marry her."

Mrs. Weasley nodded. "Right," she said. "You _will _marry her." Her inflection left no room for contradiction. Harry realized completely that everything Hermione had said about her wanting to control their lives was true.

"I will," he said slowly, "if she wants to marry me."

"And why wouldn't she? You think she _wants _to have a bastard child and raise it alone?"

The term bastard bothered him, even though he knew that it was technically true. He ignored it, though. "I think she might not feel the same way about it that I do," he admitted quietly. He was growing more uncomfortable by the second, but he still felt that he was doing the right thing by having this conversation and trying to make things better between all of them.

Mrs. Weasley said nothing at first. She just looked at him as if she were trying to figure something out. When she finally spoke, her tone was dramatically different, and he no longer got an irate vibe from her- instead, she just seemed curious. "And why do _you _feel that way?"

He didn't want to get into it, but he didn't see any way out. Besides, even if she was furious with him, he still trusted her and knew she'd understand. She'd always had a way of understanding him, even if sometimes he did find it maddening.

"Because," he said quietly, ducking his head as he picked at a loose hangnail, "I don't think people should purposely choose not to be there for their kids… It's not right because some people can't help it."

He didn't look up for the reaction, but the calm silence that followed let him know that she understood exactly what he as saying. He was a little bit embarrassed but not enough to make him not say it. It was the truth. He felt very strongly about it, and even if he was terrified of marriage and terrified of a baby, he couldn't change what he felt was right.

"I didn't have anyone who cared about me when I was a kid," he went on, finally looking back up when she did not reply. "I just… I don't want this baby to ever feel that way."

"I think that's very mature," she said calmly. She looked like maybe she wanted to smile at him but wasn't quite ready to forgive _completely _yet. "And I agree with you," she added. "Parents should never make the choice to purposely leave their children."

"I promise I'll take care of Ginny," he said sincerely. "I'll take care of both of them. I don't want her to do this on her own."

Mrs. Weasley nodded. "I believe you."

"And I _do_ love her," he went on, taking advantage of the fact that she was no longer snappy furiously. "I promise you that."

"Harry, you are a good kid." She finally cracked the tiniest of smiles. "Ginny is very lucky."

"Please don't be mad at her," he pleaded quietly. "She's so upset because she thinks you're angry, and she really needs you."

"It's not fair to ask me not to be upset."

"You can be upset," he agreed. "But if you're going to be angry, be angry at me. Not Ginny because she's already scared and confused enough as it is. And she's sick, too. All the time. She needs you there to help her."

Though she looked conflicted for a few seconds, Mrs. Weasley finally relented. "She's my baby. Of _course _I'm going to be there for her. But that doesn't mean I accept this or approve," she added quickly. Harry nodded. "And I expect you to do the right thing."

"I will," he promised. Then he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a little box. "I already bought her a ring, see?" He popped the top of the tiny box and held it out to her. She took it and examined before smiling up at him, an actual real smile.

"It's lovely."

"I hope she likes it," he said, already feeling nervous just thinking about it. "I didn't think she'd want anything too gaudy, and the lady at the shop said this was one of the more simpler ones."

"She'll love it." She handed the ring back, and Harry tucked the box back into his pocket.

"Please don't tell her I came here, alright?" he asked timidly. "She doesn't know."

She shook her head. "I won't."

"Will you go see her?" he asked, pushing some fringe off of his forehead. "She's at home, and she doesn't feel well at all. I think she would like to see you."

She nodded. "I'll go see her. I think we need to talk anyway."

"Thank you."

She reached over and covered his hand with her own. He caught her eye, and she looked at him seriously. "I'm very glad she's got you," she said, and she sounded completely honest.

That made him feel better. He was glad to know that she didn't _really _think he was some sort of evil degenerate who was preying on her young daughter with ill intentions and all these other sort of crazy ideas that had gone through his head the past few days. Her opinion, after all, _was _very important to him. He had a great deal of respect for her, and she'd been the closest thing to a mother he'd ever known. He didn't want that to be ruined, so he was glad that she didn't hate him. At least she knew that he really did care about Ginny and would do right by the situation.

Now he just had to convince her brothers not to murder him...

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A/N: Not too bad of a wait. Can't do one every day all the time, but I'll do my best to stay on top of it. Thanks for the reviews!


	13. Bars and Bargaining

**BACK TO THE BEGINNING**

**Chapter 13**

**BARS AND BARGAINING**

----------------------------------------------------

Ron was fairly certain of two things.

One, Hermione was going to kill him if he stayed out instead of coming home. And two, he was going to die anyway if he didn't get a drink in him.

So when Harry popped round unexpectedly and asked him to go for a pint, he weighed the options and decided that if he was going to die one way or the other, he'd at least like to be intoxicated. He was courteous enough to send an owl to Hermione letting her know. He could have just Apparated home or popped his head through the Floo, of course, but it was much easier to defy her when he didn't have to actually speak to her. He'd learned a long time ago that it was also much easier to ask forgiveness than to ask permission.

And maybe she wouldn't even care. He told himself this in an attempt to get rid of some of the guilt. It wasn't likely true, of course, but there was always the slight possibility that she would encourage him to build healthy male relationships and spend time with his mates and tell him that going out for a drink once in awhile was good for him. These were all rather unlikely but still _possible, _so he kept that thought in mind as he locked up the shop and headed across the street to the Leaky Cauldron.

Harry was waiting for him, hidden away in the usual back booth. He was obviously trying very hard to be invisible without actually donning the Invisibility Cloak. He seemed to be doing a good job of just blending in, though, because no one was bothering him, which was sometimes a rarity. He had a habit of attracting attention wherever he went, so it was always surprising when he managed to stay relatively unnoticed. Of course, it _was _a Tuesday night, so the pub wasn't exactly crawling with patrons.

Ron slid into the booth across from Harry who raised his eyebrows questioningly. "So Hermione let you come?"

Ron just scowled at him. "She doesn't _let _me do anything," he said defiantly. "I don't need her permission."

Harry just nodded. "Right."

"And besides," he shrugged nonchalantly and ducked his head, "I just… didn't actually tell her."

He was met with a snort and a disbelievingly head shake. "She's going to murder you."

Harry was probably right. Hermione could be extremely scary when she was angry, and he didn't doubt that she was capable of high-powered violence and even murder. Still, he refused to admit this.

"She'll just have to get over it."

Harry nodded again, though the smirk on his face was one of amusement. "Sure. Make sure you tell her that."

Ron shrugged one shoulder. "I might. Someday."

Harry didn't have a chance to respond to that because the waitress showed up just in time. Ron barely glanced at her as he ordered a drink, but then he did a double-take. "Hey, when'd you start working here?"

Hannah Abbott was standing beside their table looking half-bored and fully-exhausted. She raised her eyebrows at him. "Um, about six months ago," she said pointedly. "I'd say you're a bit late."

"It's not his fault," Harry offered. "He's not really allowed out a lot."

"Fuck off."

Hannah laughed. "How is Hermione anyway?"

"She's fine," Ron answered dully.

Harry finished up for him. "Yeah, she got a _law _passed for House-Elf rights." He was smirking again, and Hannah rolled her eyes.

"Oh, god, are you are serious? She didn't give that up yet?"

"Well, why should she give it up?" Ron snapped finally. "It's important to her."

There was a stunned sort of silence afterwards in which both Harry and Hannah stared at him. And then within ten seconds, they'd both burst into laughter. He didn't even know what the hell was so funny but if he had to guess, he'd wager that it was on his behalf. The other two seemed highly amused by the fact that he'd just defended a law about _House-Elves _when they both knew bloody well that he didn't give a shit about the little bastards.

"Look, are you going to get our drinks anytime this year?" he snapped at Hannah, and she raised her eyebrows at him.

"Well, if you speak to me like that again, I'm pretty certain you won't be getting drinks ever again. At least not in _this _pub."

He scowled at her but smartly shut up. She smirked triumphantly and disappeared.

"What's got into her?" Ron asked the second she was out of sight.

Harry shrugged and took a drink from the mug already in front of him. "I dunno, but she practically runs this place now."

Ron wasn't aware that Harry was such a pub-goer, but he didn't care that much. He was just glad to have a brief little break of any kind. He was exhausted and felt quite like he might fall over at any given second. Harry seemed to notice this.

"You look beat."

"Well, let's just say that I've never been more excited by the prospect of seeing George than I currently am. I'm sick of doing this all alone."

"When's he back?"

"Monday. Supposedly." Ron sighed and shrugged one shoulder. "But he's said that for the past two weeks, and I've yet to see him actually enter the shop."

Two new pints appeared on their table, and Ron reached for his eagerly, drinking in the warm liquid and actually sighing a bit in contentment. It really _was _the little things.

"So…" Harry said, stretching the syllable in the way he always did when he was about to spring something mental. "I went and talked to your mum."

"And you're still alive?"

"Apparently." Harry took another drink. "I just wanted to make things okay between her and Ginny."

"Gin doesn't know you did that, does she?" He could tell by the look on Harry's face that he was right. "Because she would kill you."

"She isn't going to _kill _me."

Ron downed the remainder of his glass in one gulp. "Ginny hates that stuff," he said knowingly. "She hates when people think they need to fight her battles for her."

Harry looked conflicted, but he just sipped his own drink. "It's not like that, though. It's not like this is her battle, and I decided to fight it. I just… She's upset because she thinks our mum hates her, and I just wanted to take the blame for it."

Ron shrugged. "I'm just telling you how she'll see it. Trust me, Ginny is very dramatic like that."

Harry knew he was right, of course, so he didn't even bother contradicting him. Instead, he just went on with the rest of it. "I also wanted to show her something."

Ron was only half-listening, as he caught Hannah's eye across the room and lifted his empty glass. She nodded, apparently not _too _upset with him. He didn't even really hear what Harry was saying until he saw a tiny box being slid across the table. It took him a second to realize what it was, and then his mouth dropped open.

"Did you ask her yet?" He flipped the lid open to check out the ring. It was nice. Not too big but a nice size. It looked like something Ginny would like.

Harry shook his head. Ron looked up and noticed that he was sort of an ashen color, like he was really nervous or something. "Not yet."

"What're you waiting on?"

"I just want to… make sure, you know?"

Ron didn't know if this was supposed to make him feel better or what. Hearing someone saying they needed to _make sure _when talking about marrying his little sister didn't make him feel great. Especially when she was getting more and more pregnant every day.

"What makes you not sure?" he asked suspiciously, closing the box and sliding it back across the table just as a new drink appeared in front of him.

"I'm just not sure it's what Ginny wants to do. She just doesn't ever mention it, you know?"

"Well, maybe she's more concerned with the baby than she is with planning a wedding." Ron knew he probably sounded like a dick, but he didn't care. He just started on his new drink. It tasted even better than the last one.

"Well, I think she'll say yes… Don't you?" he asked after a bit of hesitation.

Ron shrugged. "I'm sure she will. I mean, if you ever get around to asking her, of course."

Harry seemed to get a bit defensive at that and said, "Well, why haven't you asked Hermione yet?"

Ron thought carefully about how to answer that question. "Well, for one thing, we're not on a nine month deadline. And for another… I want to wait until I'm doing something besides working for my brother."

"But Hermione doesn't care about that, so why don't you ask her?"

"_I _care about it," he said pointedly, already having drained about half of his second drink. "It's not because I'm not sure if that's what you're hinting at."

Harry looked bothered by this. Perhaps he realized that he had no excuse to be unsure of anything. Still, he felt the need to ask. "Well, how do you _know?"_

Ron didn't even know where to begin with that question. "I don't ever _wonder," _he said. "I've always known that."

"Well, I know it, too," Harry said, though he still sounded a bit uncertain. "I just want to make sure it's what Ginny wants."

"Then ask her." Ron finished off the drink and promptly ordered another one. "She'll say yes."

Harry still seemed a bit unsure, but he just tucked the ring back into his jacket and went back to his own drink. "Don't say anything, okay?" he said a second later.

Ron nodded and continued drinking, knowing fully-well that he wasn't going to be keeping _that _secret for very long.

He knew he was in trouble the second he got home. It was well after midnight. There were no lights on, and the bedroom door was shut tightly. Even better was the fact that his pillow was lying pointedly just in front of the closed door. She'd apparently kicked him out for the night. He wasn't surprised, of course, because she loved doing that whenever she was extremely hacked off about something. He often wanted to ask why she always got dibs on the bed after an argument, but there was a big part of him that was scared of her, so he usually kept his mouth shut on that one and just camped on the sofa.

Not tonight, though.

He picked up the pillow and pushed the door open. He couldn't see perfectly in the darkened room, but he could make out her figure once his eyes adjusted. She was lying with her back to the door, but he couldn't tell if she was actually asleep or simply faking it. It didn't matter. She was about to wake up one way or the other.

He went straight over to the bed, put his pillow back in its place, and sat down. "Wake up," he whispered, poking her in the back of the head. She didn't give any response, so he tried again a second later. _"Wake up." _He poked her repeatedly this time until she finally shot up and turned around to glare at him, grabbing his outstretched finger tightly in her fist.

"If you touch me one more time, I _swear _I'll start hexing appendages off your body, and this finger will only be the beginning!"

He chose to ignore her heavy threat of violence and instead smiled sweetly. "Morning, sweetheart!"

She glared some more. "Maybe you didn't get the hint," she said nastily, releasing his finger roughly. And with that, she grabbed his pillow once again and threw it across the room to the doorway.

He looked as it landed and then simply sighed and reached for her own, sliding it to his side of the bed and then lying down on it. "I was going to tell you a secret, but if you're going to be mean to me, I'll keep it to myself."

"Go away," she said flatly, completely ignoring him.

"Be nice to me."

"No. You are a prick, and I don't like you right now. Go away."

She yanked the pillow out from beneath his head and hugged it tightly. He sat up and smiled at her nicely.

"You should be happy because I have good gossip."

"No, you don't," she snapped. "You're just saying that because you're trying to make me forget that I hate you."

"Now, you know that's not true."

"How much would you like to bet?"

He just smiled at her again. "I really _do _have a secret," he said coaxingly. She couldn't resist.

"Fine! What is it?"

"Well, I'm certainly not going to tell you if you can't ask nicely."

"Tell me," she said threateningly, "or I will forget about the finger and skip straight to hexing off the important bits."

"I'll tell you when you say you're not mad at me." If she could bargain, so could he. She was not the least bit amused, though.

"I will not say that because it's a lie."

"Then I'm not telling you."

"Fine." She shrugged defiantly. "I don't care."

"Yes, you do," he said knowingly, leaning in close to her to bump his nose against hers. She was annoyed and pulled away. "Say you're not mad at me, and I'll tell you."

"I'm not mad at you." It couldn't be more obvious that she was furious with him.

"You have to mean it."

"I _don't _mean it."

"You have to."

"Well, I don't." She turned away from him to fluff the pillow and place it back in its spot on her side of the bed.

"Just say it," he urged, leaning over to prompt straight into her ear as she kept her back turned toward him. "Just say… _I'm not mad at you. _And mean it."

"You can't make me mean something."

"But you already mean it. You just won't admit it." He shoulder bumped her. "_I promise I'm not mad at you, Ron," _he urged. "Just say it, and I'll tell you the secret."

"Leave me alone."

"It's _really _good…" he coaxed, and she rolled her eyes.

"Fine! I'm not mad at you, Ron."

"Do you mean that?"

"Yes." It was obvious that she was having to force every syllable out of her mouth.

"No take backs, either," he said pointedly. "You can't change your mind."

"I won't, now just tell me the damn secret!"

He shook his head disapprovingly at her. "You don't sound entirely sincere." The look on her face let him know she was about to make good on her threat to start hexing away appendages. "Tell me you love me."

She glared at him.

"Just say it," he looked at her pointedly. She looked at him evilly. "_I. Love. You. _It's easy. When you say it, I'll believe you."

Hermione was about to murder him- of this, he was sure. Still, she gritted her teeth and sighed loudly. "I love you." Words had never sounded more forced.

It was enough, though, and he smiled triumphantly. "I love you, too."

She rolled her eyes. "Just tell me the damn secret already!"

He nodded. "I'll give you a hint."

"I don't want _hints," _she said incredulously. "Just tell me!"

He ignored her. "Okay, it's got to do with Harry. And Ginny. And a diamond."

"He asked her to marry him!" Hermione immediately went from looking murderous to looking ecstatic and excited.

"Not yet."

"When?" She was happy now and seemed to have forgotten all about the fact that she was hacked off at him.

He shrugged. "I guess whenever he gets the balls up to do it."

She frowned at him. "Well, when is he going to have the _balls?"_

"Don't say _balls, _Hermione. It sounds dirty coming out of your mouth." He hesitated and then smirked. "Or, you know, say it again."

She slapped his arm. "Shut up," she said warningly. "Now _when?"_

He laughed and shrugged again. "I dunno. Soon, I imagine. I think he's a bit scared."

"Well," she said seriously, "the time of being scared is over. They're about to have a baby whether they like it or not."

"So you think it's a good idea then?" Them getting married?"

"If that's what they want," she said, nodding. "Then of course I think it's a good idea. I just don't think they should get married if it's not actually _them _making the decision."

"Well, it's a secret, alright? So don't tell anyone."

She nodded, and he took that as his opportunity for the move-in. He leaned over and deeply breathed in. "You smell good," he said seriously. She smelled freshly-showered, and her still damp hair confirmed this theory. He tried to distract her by letting his lips slide carelessly up her neck, but she pushed him away.

"You're drunk."

"No," he denied, shaking his head with as much mock seriousness as he could muster. "I just love you."

She tried to fight the inevitable, but eventually an amused smile cracked onto her face. "Yes," she said, nodding. "You're drunk."

"Not completely," he defended. "Not really. Now come on," he moved back in closer. "You said you loved me. And you said you weren't mad at me." He accented his words by tracing a gentle path down her cheek and across her chin.

"I only said that because I was under duress."

He stopped tracing and stared at her for a long moment. Finally, he admitted the obvious. "I don't know what that means."

This time, she actually laughed, much to her own annoyance, he was sure. She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Stop it," she said half-heartedly as he took advantage of her temporary amusement to move in for an actual kiss. She pulled back, and he stopped just a few inches away from her.

"I'm sorry," he said, giving her the saddest, most sincere look he could manage in the actual intoxicated state he was in. "You should forgive me because I know you really love me, and forgiveness is a good part of that."

She stared at him and rolled her eyes. "You are so full of crap."

"But I love you," he pointed out, raising his eyebrows in hopes of forgiveness. "Isn't that enough?"

She seemed to consider this and then sighed loudly. "You're lucky that you actually _did _have a good secret."

He smiled and moved back in for the kill.

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A/N: I got a review saying that chapter 12 was gone, but it's still showing up for me. So I don't know if there's something strange going with it or if it was just a one-person fluke. Anyway, thanks for reading! Hope you liked it.


	14. Proposals and Prepping

BACK TO THE BEGINNING

Chapter 14

PROPOSALS AND PREPPING

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Ginny had never really understood the meaning of _time flies._

She was an impatient person by nature. Her whole life had been one big slow motion event after another. When she was a child, she would spend all year waiting on August so she could grow another year. She had a bit of an obsession with it, always hating the fact that she was the youngest. When she was very young, it occurred to her that she only needed to age one year in order to catch up with Ron. She remembered specifically waiting impatiently for her birthday only to realize that it didn't work that way. It didn't take her long after that to realize that she was never going to catch up with him.

Her brothers started heading off to school the year she was born. Every single year, she'd watch them head off one by one, and she'd wait impatiently until it was her time to go. She was horrified to realize, though, that going to school didn't really fix everything. Time seemed to slow even more as she started Hogwarts and learned that she had no real interest in… well, _learning. _She hated classes and homework and exams, and she started living solely for the summer. She'd count the days until the end of term religiously but rarely felt as if she ever made any headway. Days and weeks and months dragged endlessly, and it exhausted her.

Of course, summer wasn't any different. She usually enjoyed it for about two days before she'd get so bored that she couldn't stand it. Her mother nagged her constantly and seemed to create new chores every day for the sole purpose of making sure she never had a second to actually relax. Her brothers were always around and always bothering her, and there was no way to escape them at home. Their house wasn't that big, and it wasn't like she could just disappear or run off and avoid them. She'd count the days until Harry and Hermione would show up, and then she'd count the days until she could escape back to Hogwarts. As much as she liked Hermione, sharing her bedroom with her got old quickly. And even after she stopped the ridiculous childhood crushing on Harry, having an unrelated boy around all the time grew tiresome and difficult and was sometimes just plain awkward.

Then August would hit, and she'd be another year older and still too young. And then September… and she'd start the whole process over. Her whole life was waiting for one thing to happen and then waiting for the next. Time never sped up. It always dragged, and she always hated that.

But she finally understood what people meant when they claimed that time flew by.

The past few weeks had passed in a blur, and looking back, she wasn't even sure how she'd got to her current position. She barely even registered the time that had passed, and it seemed ludicrous that so much had changed so quickly. She wasn't even positive that she was fully sane anymore, considering the fact that her whole world had turned completely upside down in the space of a few weeks.

She was engaged.

She couldn't process it really, nor was she even sure how it had happened. Well, of course she knew _how _it happened. She _was _there after all, and even if she was a bit delusional, she was awake at least. Harry proposed to her. There was nothing unique or mind-blowing about it- it was just a regular, normal sort of proposal. But all she could in that second was the sparkly ring and a stupid fairytale she'd once imagined when she was twelve years old. She said yes without thinking, and for about an hour afterwards, she'd been the happiest she could ever remember.

And then she realized what had happened.

He was happy. He hugged her and kissed her and told her he loved her about twenty times, and every single time, her stomach seemed to drop further and further. It wasn't that she didn't think he was genuine- she _knew _he was genuine. He really _did _love her, and she loved him, too. She hadn't ever loved anyone besides him. He was like her childhood fantasy come true, and sometimes she wondered how she'd even managed to get that lucky. She thought he was the best man she'd ever known, and even if he did have some obvious flaws, he was still everything she wanted. Or at least he was everything she _thought _she wanted…

But standing there, looking at the ring on her finger, she wondered if she even _knew _what she wanted.

It hit her all at once that she was just twenty-two years old. It wasn't terribly young, but she was still very early into her adult years. She lived on her own and had a job and paid her own bills… but in many ways, she still felt very much like a child. She still had a tendency to curl up with her dad and still loved the way she felt when he kissed the top of her head and squeezed her tight. When she was sick, she still wanted her mum to take care of her and coddle her and make her soup and give her lots of cuddles. As much issue as she had with being the baby, she really _was _a textbook youngest child, and she knew it. She could complain about it all day long, but she loved being babied when it was convenient for her, and she wasn't sure you still got that when you were a married woman.

She wasn't sure you still got _anything _when you were a married woman.

She liked the way her life currently was. She loved her flat and loved living on her own and making money and being a sports star and going to fancy parties and having fun. She loved her boyfriend, too, of course, but she liked them being two separate entities. As impatient as she was, the one thing she didn't have the desire to rush was marriage, so when she suddenly found herself engaged, she was a little shocked and a lot confused.

Still, there was a baby on the way. Like it or not, she was going to be a mum in a few months, and no matter what Hermione said, she couldn't just do that on her own. Her family was going to be embarrassed enough as it was, so she wasn't going to add to that by refusing to legitimize things. It didn't help matters, of course, that she wasn't just having anyone's baby- she was having _Harry Potter's. _There was no way she could do that quietly, so the best thing all the way around was just to get married quickly and hope people weren't very good with maths.

Of course, that was a rather fruitless wish…

She turned in her resignation on a Thursday afternoon, and by Friday morning, the whole world knew. She told the manager of the team that she was taking time off to plan her wedding and spend time with her family. The news broke immediately. It was as good a way as any to break the engagement news, she figured. It saved them the trouble of having to do it themselves after all, and Ginny liked that aspect of it. She hated press announcements, especially when it came to things that she felt weren't exactly the public's business in the first place. So she didn't mind that news of the engagement got out that way. What she _did _mind, however, was the immediate speculation that followed it.

The newspapers were full of headlines citing the news and speculating the reasoning. She didn't expect it to happen so quickly, so she was surprised that some of them were so accurate. She was even more surprised by the cruelty that some of the articles took. She was used to it, of course, but she'd deluded herself into thinking that perhaps they would be nice to her for once as she celebrated the news of her engagement.

She was _very _wrong.

_Ginny Weasley of Holyhead Harpies fame announced Thursday that she is quitting the sport. _

_  
When asked about her reasoning, Gayle Marveleigh, Harpies' owner, stated a suggestion that Weasley wants to stay home and start a family. With this announcement, comes the news of Weasley's recent engagement to Harry Potter. The two have been sporadically dating for a few years and have yet to make an official announcement in regards to the reported engagement. Marveleigh says she and the rest of the industry were shocked by the news._

"_She's been out ill for a few weeks now. We thought she was just sick, but perhaps it's something more. She's never given any previous hints of a marriage, so it all seems a bit out of nowhere."_

_A bit out of nowhere indeed. Sources close to the couple state that there was no talk of an engagement prior to the announcement, and they say they're shocked to hear of something many of them feel is drastic. _

_One friend says, "Ginny and Harry like each other, of course, but I'm shocked to hear that they're getting married. Neither of them have ever given any indication that they're that serious, so it's a bit surprising, yeah."_

_The sudden engagement and withdraw from Quidditch leaves one to question the motivation. Weasley, of course, has all the motive in the world to lock down the country's most sought-after man. Fortune, fame, and luxury are enough to attract any woman. The question, of course, is why Potter would choose something so drastic._

"_I think she's got to be pregnant or something," says another close friend. "He wouldn't marry her for any other reason that I can think of. I mean, it's a smart move on her part, I guess, because she's got him trapped for good now, but it's awfully conniving."_

_While no official word of a pregnancy has been given, it is the most obvious reason behind the sudden engagement news. If this is the case, Weasley's going to have a lot of women angry with her for stealing away the world's most eligible bachelor. Until they're willing to own up to the reasoning, though, we're all just left to speculation._

Ginny had no idea who all those so-called 'close friends' were, but she was willing to bet that she'd never actually had a conversation with any of them.

It infuriated her that people could be so stupid. She didn't know why anyone in their right mind would come up with the idea that she did any of this on _purpose. _What sane person would ever _want_ to get pregnant out of wedlock at twenty-two and give up a successful Quidditch career? She didn't care if it was Harry Potter or not, she couldn't think of _any_ man that would be worth willingly giving up her lifetime dream over. Still, it was what it was, and she was dealing with it. They were getting married because it was the best option for both of them. According to her mother, it was the _only _option.

Her mother was starting to come around, slowly but surely. At the very least, she was speaking to them both in at least a somewhat civil manner. She was also spending a lot of time taking care of Ginny and doing her best to keep her away from the tabloids and the newspapers. Instead, she was throwing herself headfirst into the wedding planning. Ginny originally said that she didn't want to do a big wedding, but her mother refused to listen to that request. The wedding was set for mid-July, which didn't even give them two full months of planning time. It didn't matter, though, according to her mum because they were still going to plan the most beautiful and wonderful wedding in the world no matter what.

Ginny had given up fighting with her. It was easier just to let her do what she wanted and shut up about it. Hermione, of course, in her newfound stance against Molly Weasley, had decided to protest this rather loudly and had actually told her mum that it was really none of her business _what_ Harry and Ginny did, nor in what timeframe they did it. Needless to say, Ginny saw her mother grow extremely irritable very quickly. She did not appreciate Hermione's opinion, and she made no secret of it. It was almost a little bit funny because Hermione was always _everyone's _favorite. She was brilliant and successful and all the things any girl should want to be, so even though Ginny loved her, it was a little nice to watch her approval rating fall a bit. Ginny figured that she was still slightly above Audrey but was now well below Fleur. Ron, of course, only found the situation amusing and was not at all as horrified as he should have been by the fact that his girlfriend was now basically on the same level as popularity as Percy's wife. Hermione didn't care, either, and made a big deal of acting like she didn't even notice when it was more than obvious that she was well-aware.

But that was the way things happened. That was how Ginny suddenly found herself going from planning a championship Quidditch match to planning a summer wedding. Harry started staying with her all the time, which was a little ridiculous, as she was no longer working. It would have made more sense for them to stay at his flat, but he seemed to think that giving her the security of her own home would somehow make things better. It didn't, of course, but it was nice of him to try.

It took some getting used to- spending that much time together. She wasn't used to living with anyone else all the time, so it took a bit of time. Still, they were slowly getting into the swing of things, and she found herself missing him when he was at work. She was back to an old familiar game of waiting and counting down, and she got into the habit of watching the clock all day long. A lot of it was due to boredom, but there was another edge to it as well. Her hormones seemed to be out of _control, _and it was all she could do to actually make it through the day without going positively mental. She felt a bit like a teenage boy trapped in a woman's body, as she couldn't seem to have _enough _sex. She actually worried that she was exhausting Harry on the matter because he didn't seem nearly as over-stimulated as she was. In fact, he would barely do more than kiss her at first, and she worried that he was already finding her unattractive. But when she said that, he assured her that that wasn't the case and that he was more worried about hurting the baby or something. Funnily enough, that particular thought never even crossed Ginny's mind. All she could do was focus on the fact that she was surely going to die if she didn't get exactly what she needed right away.

Originally, she was shocked a little disturbed by the new feelings. She didn't know if they were normal or if she was some sort of horny out of control freak of nature. She didn't exactly have anyone to ask, either, because she was certainly not bring it up to her mum, and she didn't want to even think about any of her brothers' sex lives, so she couldn't ask her sisters-in-law, either. None of her friends had children yet, and there wasn't really anyone else around to go to for advice. Leave it to Hermione, though, to be the voice of wisdom and the source of all knowledge.

"It's quite common," she said matter-of-factly after Ginny let it slip a little over tea one afternoon. "You have more hormones than ever before, so it's normal that you'd experience an increased sex drive."

Ginny nearly immediately wished she'd never said anything. Even though Hermione was her best friend, they didn't often cross into the sex talk because, as stated earlier, Ginny didn't like thinking about any of her brothers' sex lives, and Hermione came with that territory. Still, Hermione was very textbook about most things, and she'd dove headfirst into researching any and all things pregnancy-related. She'd given Ginny about six books to read that were all currently collecting dust on the sitting room table. But even if it was awkward, Hermione was smart, and she could read and understand things much more easily than most people could. So even if it was weird, Ginny didn't really have any better options.

"It just… _feels _so good," she finally admitted, trying hard not to blush. She was an engaged, pregnant woman- she should be past blushing about sex. "Different from usual."

Hermione nodded. She sounded like she was quoting research, which she probably was, but Ginny was still impressed that she was able to do so from memory. "It's because your blood flow is better. And your body's more sensitive than usual. It's totally normal."

"It's weird. I feel like such a slag."

"You can't help it. It's your hormones."

"Well, too bad Harry hasn't got the same problem," she said bitterly. "He's too worried about hurting the baby or something."

"You aren't going to hurt the baby," Hermione said knowingly. "It's actual got quite a few health benefits to it during pregnancy."

Ginny didn't even want to know what those might be. Instead, she just sipped her tea and shook her head. "Well, what if we just go at it all the time, and it warps the baby and turns it into some sort of sex maniac or something?"

Hermione actually laughed at that, apparently assuming that she was joking. "That isn't going to happen," she said, rolling her eyes. "If the baby turns out to be a sex maniac, it'll have nothing to do with you. It'll all be due to his own hormonal and genetic make-up."

"Her."

"Sorry?"

"_Her," _Ginny repeated. "The baby. It's a girl."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "How do you know?"

"I just know." Ginny took another sip of her tea. "It's a girl."

She could tell from the look on Hermione's face that she did not believe for one second that the girl was definitely a girl, nor did she believe that Ginny had some sort of sixth sense power that would tell her so.

"You just want it to be a girl," she said smartly, "so you're refusing to entertain the notion that it might not be. Doing that will jinx you, and you'll end up just like your mum with a million boys before you ever see a girl."

Ginny was horrified by the notion, and she said so, "Um, excuse me, but I can assure you that I will _not _end up like my mum. I'm finished after this one. One is more than enough."

Hermione said nothing, but Ginny could tell that she was doubting her and probably thinking that she was too young and inexperienced to be making assumptions about how many children she would eventually want. Still, having grown up in a large family, Ginny was more than content with the idea of just having a single child- a little girl that she could dress up and show off just like a doll. She couldn't quite yet wrap her head around the fact that there was going to be more to it than that. She _knew, _of course, but it was much easier to accept if she simply pretended that it was all going to be fun and games.

"I think you should prepare yourself for a boy," Hermione said, pushing her teacup away. "There's a fifty percent chance that's what you're going to get. More if you psychologically jinx yourself."

Ginny didn't know if she believed in psychological jinxes, but she was more than familiar with the fact that Hermione had an overwhelming tendency to be right in most everything. It was one of the many things she envied about her. It was a good trait to have around if you were cramming for exams or something like that- when you were planning the birth of your child… not so much.

She couldn't believe there was actually going to be a _baby. _She was going to get married, and then five months later, there was going to be a baby. Probably by Christmas, she was going to be a mum… It was insane. She couldn't believe it.

Somehow, she had a feeling that the next several months were going to be the first in her life to ever actually fly.

And she wasn't at all ready for that.

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A/N: Yes, I realize that not a lot happened there, but I wanted to give a bit of time to Ginny's general frame of thought and mindset in order to set things up. Please review!


	15. Weddings and Wishes

**BACK TO THE BEGINNING**

**Chapter 15**

**WEDDINGS AND WISHES**

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"I want to _kill _my mother."

Hermione wasn't shocked by the statement when Ginny showed up unexpectedly on a Saturday afternoon. She was attempting to take a midday nap, but that was interrupted by the sudden Apparation. Ginny didn't seem to be concerned by this and, instead, took it upon herself to also climb into the bed and snuggle down under the blanket.

"She's driving me crazy," she went on dramatically. "She's trying to do everything, and it's all turning into this huge deal that I don't even care about!"

Hermione didn't have to ask what the "everything" was because she already knew Ginny was referring to the quickly approaching wedding.

"Well," she said slowly, "I'm not her biggest fan at the moment, either."

"And she's sure as hell not yours." Ginny rolled her eyes and sighed loudly.

Hermione knew she should be offended by having it verbally confirmed, but it wasn't as if she didn't know that Mrs. Weasley was gunning for her now. She'd dug the hole on that one herself after all, though, with the whole gist of mind your own business… But in her defense, she'd _thought _she had the support of her friends, only to find out that they really were just as spineless as she'd suspected. So much for Gryffindor bravery and all that crap.

"Well, it doesn't bother me," she said defiantly.

"Oh, it doesn't?" Ginny rolled onto her side to face, clearly amused.

"No. If she wants to hold a grudge after a little bit of _honest _constructive criticism… Well, there's nothing I can do about that, is there?"

Ginny wasn't buying it, but Hermione refused to admit any differently. Besides, it was the truth- not the bit about her not caring, but the part about it being honest. It _wasn't _any of Mrs. Weasley's business _what _Harry and Ginny did or how quickly they chose to do it. But no one else had the balls to say anything, and now she was the one paying for it.

It didn't put her in a great mood about the subject.

"Well, for what it's worth," Ginny said, pulling the blanket more tightly around her, "I agree with you and wish she'd just shut the hell up and leave us alone."

Hermione wanted to ask why she didn't open her mouth and say something then, but she knew it was pointless. Ginny, just like Ron, and apparently just like Harry, was scared of her mother. Ron, at least, had the decency to be amused by it but was nowhere near brave enough to actually _say _anything. Harry was just a prat. And Ginny was already on extremely thin ice so apparently was under the impression that she should just grin and bear it. Still, Hermione wasn't completely positive what the big deal was supposed to be anyway.

"I don't get what your big issue with the wedding is in the first place," she said, eyeing Ginny from the odd sideways angle at which they were lying.

"I just don't think it's important." Ginny lifted a shoulder. "It just seems like a whole lot of trouble for something that lasts, what? A few hours?"

Hermione didn't really see it like that. "It's the most important day of your life."

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "Really? _The _most important day of your life? You really believe that?"

Hermione felt her cheeks heat up a little bit, though she didn't know why. She didn't know if she was embarrassed or why she should be, but it made her feel a little timid. "It's your day to be a princess."

Ginny laughed. "A princess?"

"You know what I mean." She still felt a little bit embarrassed. "You get to dress up and be beautiful and everyone has to be nice to you…"

"And you care about that? About dressing up and being a princess?"

Hermione realized that this was a stupid thing to say, as Ginny was beautiful all the time, no matter how she was dressed or what day it was. Ginny couldn't relate to needing to feel like a princess or needing to feel pretty. She was that girl who went to bed beautiful, woke up beautiful, and would still be beautiful in the middle of the day during a typhoon. She didn't _need _to feel pretty because she _was _pretty, and even if she didn't harp on it, she knew she was attractive. People loved her because she was pretty- she got attention everywhere she went, and people flocked to her. It was no secret.

"I wouldn't think _you _would find that so important," Ginny said questioningly. "I thought you'd think that sort of thing was silly."

"I don't think it's the most important thing in the world," Hermione defended quickly, "but it would be nice for one day."

Ginny didn't understand, and she never would. If she went the rest of her life without anyone ever telling her she was beautiful, it wouldn't matter because she already _knew. _She'd known her whole life, and that likely wasn't going to change any time soon. People didn't normally make a habit out of telling Hermione she was beautiful, and it wasn't something she heard much of growing up, either, except from her parents who obviously had to say it out of requirement. Whereas Ginny was stunning in every aspect, Hermione was overwhelmingly average. She was average height, average body. Her eyes were average brown, and her hair was, too, not to mention far too curly. The only thing about her that _wasn't _average was her brain, and that's why she focused so much on intelligence. It was the one thing that made her stand out. When she was a child with horrid hair and teeth far too large for her mouth, other kids made fun of her, so she did everything in her power to prove herself better than them and threw herself headfirst into a goal of being the best at every subject. When she got a little bit older, she still wasn't pretty enough or charming enough to garner much attention, so she studied and studied and stayed determine to be the best. In her head, it made her equal with the rest of them. Even if she wasn't pretty or popular like Lavender or Parvati, she could justify this by telling herself that at least she was smarter than them. It was the only thing she had, and girls like Ginny would never be able to understand that.

Of course, she wasn't a kid anymore. She was older now and no longer felt an overpowering need to prove her self-worth by being smarter than everyone else. She still thought it was important, of course, but she didn't let her life revolve around it anymore. She'd also gotten past the point of being extremely self-conscious about her looks. She still didn't consider herself beautiful, and she knew that the majority of the world didn't, either. But she didn't let it bother her that much. Part of that was probably because she was in love. Ron thought she was beautiful, and she even let herself believe him when he said it. That was enough really. She didn't need much more validation.

That was another thing she didn't understand about Ginny's reluctance for a wedding. She was going to be _married _to somebody she loved. That, to Hermione, was the most amazing part of it all. While she was in no particular hurry to get married herself, the thought of it happening someday thrilled her to the bone. When it happened, it was going to be the most important thing in the world. It was the very basis that her whole future was planned around. She didn't mind holding off, but in some ways, she couldn't wait. She felt almost as if it went against every feminist bone in her body, but she couldn't wait to be a wife. Of course, it wasn't the idea of simply being a wife that thrilled her, it was the idea of being _his _wife because, regardless of anything else, she was in love with someone she wanted to spend every single day of the rest of her life with. She was certain of that. Ron may have been a total idiot who drove her insane ninety percent of the time, but he was the only person in the entire world who she trusted completely. He was the only person in the world she wanted to be with.

When she looked at Harry and Ginny, she didn't see that.

They were in love and were nice to each other and happy together, but she wondered if either of them felt the way she did. If they did, she couldn't see how they weren't both more excited by the engagement. Maybe they were just scared. After all, it wasn't just marriage, it was marriage and a _baby, _so maybe she couldn't relate. Still, she wondered if they felt the way she did when she thought about being in love. It wasn't that she thought that her relationship was better or stronger or deeper than anyone else's. She just didn't know how anyone else would be able to relate to what they had because no one else had gone through what they did together. No one else in the world knew what it was like to be Harry Potter's best friend and what that meant during a time when every single day could literally have been the last. It was hell, but they did it together.

It was crazy looking back to think that they'd gone all that time without ever actually being together, but she thought that them waiting so long was perhaps the reason they were so strong now. She'd loved him forever, probably since she was eleven years old. Well, okay, probably not when she was _eleven- _when she was eleven, she probably actually hated him. But it wasn't long. Of course, she had no idea what it was, and it confused her to no end. She fought with him constantly, always with no idea _why. _After a few years, she started to figure it out, and then she went from confused to terrified. She was scared to death of the fact that she felt so strongly about someone who was so mean to her and so hurtful and who obviously did _not _share those feelings. She actually hated feeling that way and tried everything in the world to make herself stop. She picked out every flaw he had and harped on it,, but it was always to no avail. She couldn't make the feelings go away. But then, of course, a few more years passed, and she came to realize that he was just a lot more dense than she was and, therefore, took a lot longer to pick up on things. They were both pretty much grown up, and it was very easy to look at each other and just _know. _But by then, it was too late. By then, it had to be about Harry, and everything else had to be pushed aside. So they came to an unspoken agreement and spent the next year like that. She had to settle for the quiet, secret moments, like when he'd silently slide his hand into hers or when he'd push a piece of her hair away from her face and let his fingers rest too long on her neck. Sometimes she'd catch him looking at her so intently that she'd forget how to breathe and would have to forcibly remind herself so as not to drop dead right there. And then there were a few times when they were camping and it was Harry's turn to keep watch that he'd crawl onto her cot with her and just slip both arms around her from behind, saying and doing nothing except tracing random circles lightly over her stomach. Those were the moments when she was sure that their hormones were going to physically kill them both, but they never did. But it was probably those moments that made everything else so easy later on. They didn't have to fall in love after they started dating because they were already _in _love- most people didn't have that luxury.

It wasn't like Harry suddenly realized he was in love with Ginny and decided to date her. No, he suddenly realized she was _hot _and that she wasn't twelve anymore. She'd always harbored a bit of a crush on him, so she didn't need much persuasion, either. But she treated him differently than any other girl did, and Hermione was fairly certain that _that _was what sealed the deal. She wasn't blinded by the whole Chosen One thing, and she was one of the few people in the world who would stand up to him when he started having one of his angry teenage angst-ridden fits. Hermione could see where that would be attractive, and she wasn't all that surprised when he seemed to be completely infatuated with her. He didn't have a ton of people who were totally honest with him, so a beautiful girl who was willing to snog him _and _tell him off _and _play Quidditch? Well, it was a match made in heaven.

Speaking of Quidditch… "Do you think you'll go back and play after the baby's born?"

Ginny's face immediate darkened. Quidditch was an incredibly sore subject with her. Hermione somehow thought that if her Quidditch career weren't being interrupted, that Ginny would have no issue with this pregnancy or this wedding. But, of course, that was impossible, as she couldn't very well play a dangerous, highly-active sport and expect her child to come out normal. Ginny sighed again, loudly, and shrugged.

"I dunno. I guess it depends on if I'm still fat, if I have anyone to watch the baby, and if I can get any team to take me now that I've quit without warning in the middle of a season." She sounded very sardonic, and Hermione wondered whether she should even comment or if this was one of those moments when it was better to just shut up and let Ginny have her dramatic moment.

She decided just to steer the subject away a little bit. "Have you thought about any names?"

This seemed to be a better topic, as everyone loves baby names. Ginny actually smiled as she nodded. "Her name is Lily."

"And if Lily is a boy?"

"Lily is _not _a boy." Ginny rolled onto her back and lifted the blanket up enough to duck her head beneath and address her stomach. "Now, you be a good little girl," she said sternly, "and listen to Mummy, okay?"

Hermione giggled and ducked her own head, reaching over to place a hand over Ginny's stomach. She leaned down a little bit and whispered, "I think you're a boy…"

Ginny clamped one hand over Hermione's mouth and put the other one on her own belly. "Don't listen to anything Auntie Hermione says," she said quickly. "She's a _liar."_

They both laughed, and Hermione shrugged away from the mouth clamp. "You just wait," she said. "That's James, not Lily." Then a thought occurred to her as Ginny pulled a face. "You're going to be one of those people who names all your kids after dead people, aren't you?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Do I have a choice? What am I going to say, _'Sorry, I don't want to name the baby after your dead parents, I'd rather call him Mike!'_?" She mocked her own voice with a much higher than usual pitch and shook her head. "Somehow I don't see that going over well…" Hermione couldn't help it and giggled again. Ginny cracked a grin, too, and shrugged. "Oh, well, I don't really care about that anyway. What about you? You don't plan on naming your kids after dead people?"

Hermione shook her head firmly. "Absolutely not. No dead people. Too much to live up to. I mean, think about baby Fred… People can't even say his _name."_

Ginny pulled another face and glanced back down to her stomach again. "That's different, though, isn't it? I mean, Fred and James Potter… That's not the same thing, is it?"

Hermione shrugged. "I guess not. I guess Fred is more fresh…"

"Nobody even really _knew _the Potters. I don't think people would have as much trouble with that." She sighed again. "It doesn't matter anyway, he's already got his mind made up about it."

Hermione said nothing, and Ginny pushed the cover back further until it was down at the foot of their bed. She took several moments to study her stomach from her current angle and then lifted up her shirt.

"Look how fat I'm already getting," she said, lifting her head as far as it would go to look downwards. Hermione looked, too, and saw nothing whatsoever that could be classified as fat.

"Seriously?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. Ginny rolled her eyes and grabbed her hand, running it over a part of her stomach that was apparently supposed to be bigger than the rest.

"Do you feel that?"

"I think that's probably just gas…" Ginny gaped at her, and she laughed. "Sorry," she said quickly, "but I don't see the fat part."

Ginny glared a little bit. "It's there," she said firmly. "Already. Can you imagine what I'm going to look like by the time the wedding gets here? Like some sort of enormous cow in a fancy gown or something."

"The wedding's barely a month away," Hermione said sensibly. "I doubt you're going to get much bigger between now and then."

Ginny didn't want that answer- clearly, she wanted someone to agree with her that being an 'enormous cow in a fancy gown' was the worst possible thing in the world to be. But she'd only be about four months pregnant at the wedding, so the chances of her being said 'enormous cow' were very slim.

"We've got to plan your hen night," Hermione said brightly, changing the subject altogether as the thought popped into her head. Ginny looked less than excited and wouldn't give up on her pity-seeking.

"Seriously? I'm a fat pregnant girl. I don't need to say goodbye to freedom, I already lost it."

Hermione refused to cater to it, though, and just shook her head. "It'll still be fun. I'm excited!"

"Well, I'm glad someone is."

"What do you want to do?"

"Eat." Hermione laughed, but Ginny just looked at her seriously. "No, honestly. That's all I ever want to do."

"Well, I'm sure we can eat. What else do you want to do for it?"

Ginny shrugged. "It doesn't matter. There's not a whole lot I _can _do."

"Okay, Negative Nancy."

Ginny laughed and pulled the blanket back up around them as she rolled onto her side and curled in closely to Hermione, wrapping both arms around her and taking over half the pillow. "Let's sleep until my brother comes home and kicks me out."

Hermione reached over and gently patted down some of Ginny's hair. She felt strangely protective over her and felt really as if she were actually her little sister and, therefore, somehow her responsibility. She felt an overwhelming need to take care of her and make everything alright. She knew how scared Ginny was, and she wanted to do whatever she could to make things better.

"Oh, and Mum says you have to come and get fitted for the wedding," Ginny said out of nowhere, tilting her head up just slightly to read Hermione's face. Hermione, of course, pulled an awful sort of look at the mere mention of going over and spending alone time with the woman she was sure now hated her. Ginny smiled, obviously amused. "It isn't going to be that bad. You can take Ron with you. She said she needs him, too."

"Excellent," Hermione said dryly. "Then she can tell us _both _how horrible we are."

"Well, if you'd just get married, she wouldn't have anything to say, now would she?"

Ginny was teasing, but there was a truth to her observation. Being unmarried was what this entire thing was all about, and they all knew it. It was stupid, of course, and none of her business, but Hermione knew that Mrs. Weasley would shut up and leave them alone the second they announced their own engagement.

But when that day would come… Well, Hermione didn't know.

Getting caught up in all of Ginny's planning, she was beginning to hope it was sooner rather than later.

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A/N: Thanks for reading.


	16. Happiness at Home

**BACK TO THE BEGINNING**

**Chapter 16**

**HAPPINESS AT HOME**

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The media circus was spinning completely out of control.

Harry was fairly good at ignoring newspapers- it was a habit he'd picked up when he was just a kid, and he carried it into adulthood. The papers, while obviously having some good points, were also often filled with lies and rumors and other falsities that were various degrees of hurtful and harmful. The Wizarding newspapers had been writing lies about him for as long as he'd known of their existence, so it wasn't like there was anything unusual about that. However, they'd slacked up on it a lot in the recent years, so it was a bit surprising to see his name on the front page every single morning again.

He did his best to ignore them, even going so far as to just not read them. Still, sometimes that was easier said than done. Copies of _The Daily Prophet _and other lesser-known newspapers and magazines were all over the Ministry, so it was hard to avoid them. It seemed that no matter whose desk he passed, he could glance down and see his face and his name looking back up at him. Then, of course, came the requisite whisper behind his back as he passed. He was very used to it. It didn't make any of it any more normal, though.

The papers were having an absolute _field day _with the news of his engagement. It seemed as if they were somehow finding a million different ways to spin the headline. He didn't see how there were possibly that many different ways to state that he was engaged, but he was apparently quite mistaken. Apparently, there were _plenty _of ways to say it and plenty of reasons to put behind it.

Unfortunately, the majority of those reasons were fairly accurate.

It was hard to keep the pregnancy under-wraps, and most of the articles about the engagement rightly guessed pregnancy as being the key factor. He supposed it _was _rather obvious, given the fact the engagement news broke the same day Ginny quit the Harpies after weeks of sick leave. A few articles speculated that she had a life-threatening illness and was likely to die at any time. In those articles, Harry was fulfilling her dying wish by giving her a fairy tale wedding and marrying her for the duration of her last days. Truthfully, Harry thought that made a much better and more dramatic story, but apparently it wasn't quite scandalous enough to be the consensus. Unfortunately, though, the scandalous spin was the truth.

The papers weren't being very nice, either- at least not where Ginny was concerned. They were saying all sorts of horrible things about her, and he felt truly awful whenever he read them. Not only that, though, but he was _furious. _It took every ounce of willpower he had to keep from busting down the door of _The Daily Prophet _and hexing some of the reporters to infinity. The horrible things they were writing pissed him off to no end, and he wanted to kill anyone who would ever say those things about her. Ginny, though, told him to ignore it. She claimed that she was ignoring it and that it didn't bother her, but, of course, he knew that was most likely a lie. It was impossible not to be bothered by the things that those idiots were saying and writing, but Ginny had a horrible habit of putting on a much braver front than she actually possessed. She was thick-skinned to a point, but no one would be able to just ignore people saying those things about them.

Not even Ginny.

They didn't plan on confirming the pregnancy rumors until after the wedding. Mrs. Weasley seemed to think that this would cause less scandal or at least legitimize the situation to a point when it was finally confirmed. Harry thought that was silly, of course, because even if they waited until the day the baby was born, everyone would know when he was conceived. There was no way to hide the inevitable scandal that was going to spring from it, so he didn't even know why they were bothering. Ginny didn't seem to, either, but neither of them really expressed too much of it, as they weren't exactly thrilled with the prospect of announcing it to the world officially, either.

Ginny was doing great considering everything she was going through. Harry thought she was really brave to be able to be dealing with everything and not having any complete mental breakdowns. He couldn't imagine how hard everything must be for her, but she was handling it amazingly. He knew she was initially having some issues, but she seemed to be getting past them and focusing on the big picture. She was slowly but surely coming to terms with the situation and was starting to make the best of it.

He loved her. He loved most everything about her. She was the most important thing in the world to him, and sometimes he wondered if she knew exactly how much she meant in his life. She'd literally changed his whole life. Even to this day, he still couldn't pinpoint the exact moment he fell in love with her. He couldn't even say when he first started thinking of her in that way. One day when he was sixteen, he just looked up and realized she wasn't just a little girl, and then after that, he barely thought of anything else.

She changed everything. He realized very quickly that every other crush he'd ever had on any other girl had been completely pointless because any other girl had never been _her. _She was the funniest and, coincidentally, the bluntest person he'd ever met in his life. She loved Quidditch, would never tell his secrets, and always had something hilarious to say or do to amuse him. She was like a good mate who just happened to be completely beautiful. And snogging her was a lot less incestuous than he might have once guessed. It was actually incredibly easy to separate himself from the little sister image he'd once had, and the rest was pretty much history.

And then he turned seventeen and had the hardest year of his life.

Looking back, he thought maybe it was the best and worst year ever, but while it was happening, he had a very difficult time seeing _anything _positive about it. It was miserable and terrifying all at the same time. Hiding out and literally running for his life were not the best ways he could think to spend what should have been his final year of school… But that was the reality of it. Thank god he had friends who weren't willing to let him do it by himself, though, and if it weren't for Ron and Hermione, he probably would never have been able to do it. Still, he wasn't blind, and he could see what was happening between them, and even if it was the weirdest thing in the world, it made him realize everything important about his own life.

And it made him realize that Ginny was at the forefront of that.

He knew he liked her, of course, but he had no idea he was in _love _with her until he spent months away from her. There were times that he would have traded anything in the world to have her with them, but now he knew that if Ginny had been there, he'd have been useless. He couldn't handle the distraction, and if she'd been there in constant danger with them, he would have lost his mind. The only thing that kept him sane half the time was finding her name on the Marauder's Map and knowing that she was safe. He'd always heard the stupid saying- _"absence makes the heart grow fonder"- _but he never had any clue how true it was until then. He never knew how badly he wanted, or actually _needed, _her until he was faced with the prospect of never seeing her again.

The months after the war were difficult for everyone. It seemed almost surreal that he could get everything he wanted while losing so much at the same time. He remembered thinking even then that it was ironic that everything in the world seemed to come with such a price. So many people died, and no matter what anyone said, they died because of him. He could listen to people tell him all day that it wasn't his fault and that he didn't need to blame himself for the sacrifices that people made. It didn't change anything. He knew that they all died because of him and that he was responsible for each and every one of their deaths even if he hadn't uttered any of the curses that had killed them. He felt everything- grief and guilt in insurmountable amounts.

And then there was Ginny.

How was he supposed to get her back and tell her everything he needed to say when he'd all but killed her brother? Fred's death was the worst out of them all. A lot of that was because he knew Fred so well and because Fred was so young. More of that was due to the fact that Fred was a Weasley, and the Weasleys were the only family Harry had ever known. He could barely look at any of them, but he had to face them every day because he had nowhere else to go. No one blamed him, but in a lot of ways, that made it even worse. He would have loved for somebody to shout at him or punch him or tell him to go fuck himself for all but being a murderer. But no one ever did. They all grieved Fred, but none of them treated Harry any differently than they ever had before. He often thought that he truly hated himself, and he needed them to hate him as well. He really felt like that was the only way he was going to get any sort of closure.

He couldn't talk to Ron about it because Ron may as well have gone missing for the next three months. He was _there, _of course, but he and Hermione seemed to be in a completely different world. Coincidentally, that also meant that he couldn't talk to Hermione about it. Hermione had always been the one person who would talk sense and reason to him no matter what. He didn't always listen to her, but he could always count on it regardless. But she was gone, too. Everyone in the house was so caught up in their own guilt and issues that no one else seemed to notice that the two of them had taken up what seemed to be permanent residence in Ron's room and rarely even turned up at dinner. Harry, having no desire to know any of the details, obviously had to find other arrangements. The Weasley house was full after that- George moved back home for awhile and so did Percy… there were only so many places to go.

But there was Ginny.

It seemed natural to take over the spot that Hermione had abandoned when she took over his own. Plus, Ginny was the only person in the whole house who also seemed to notice what was going on in the attic bedroom. It was a little bit weird, he supposed, to be practically moving into his ex-girlfriend's bedroom, but she never did or said anything to make it awkward. She treated him normally, which was a blessing because _no one _was treating him normally. The whole world seemed to think he was either some frail, fragile, broken little boy or some world-class, infinitely brave hero. He was neither, and Ginny was one of the few people who seemed to know that. Still, they weren't together, and she didn't push for anything different. They were just friends, and he spent weeks just being normal with her- laughing and talking and speculating about how long it would take for Ron and Hermione to finally tire of each other and end up trying to off each other (apparently they were both wrong with those bets…). She was upset about Fred, of course, and he tried to comfort her as best he could, but she never really let him. She dealt with that part privately for the most part and put on an extremely brave front. She spent the rest of her time becoming his new best friend. He realized that she was the most amazing, perfect person on the whole planet, and miraculously, she didn't hate him for breaking up with her in the first place.

And then one night, they ended up getting drunk in her room in the middle of the night and going further than they'd ever gone in the past when they were dating or since. He was well wasted and ended up telling her he was in love with her. He half-expected her to freak out and kick him out of her room, but she just rolled her eyes and said it was about time. And then that was it.

Apparently that was their habit- get drunk, have sex, and then life-changing events happen. That was, after all, exactly how they found themselves in their current situation. Honestly, he couldn't say he was all that shocked that they'd ended up here. It wasn't what they _planned, _of course, but it was predictable. They weren't the most careful of people and never had been. He could think back with the timeline and probably pinpoint the exact night it happened, but it wasn't as if that was the first time they'd made that mistake. Not by a long shot.

And he realized too quickly one night in Diagon Alley that there was absolutely no way hiding it much longer.

Ginny met him in London after work, and they went to Diagon Alley together to see Ron and do a bit of shopping. They did an alright job of avoiding being mobbed while they were in WWWs, but the second they stepped out the door into the street, that all changed. There were probably thirty different photographers and reporters waiting for them, as they'd all apparently been tipped off to their whereabouts and had Apparated straight to the point. The cameras flashed in such quick succession that Harry almost believed he might go blind. He reached for Ginny's hand and tried to pull her through the crowd, but it seemed to be to no avail.

"_Is there a date for the wedding?"_

"_Have you signed a prenuptial agreement?"_

"_Do you think you're both ready for this type of commitment?"_

And, of course…

"_When is the baby due?"_

Harry did his best to ignore the questions and avoid their askers. He tried pushing his way through the tight crowd of reporters, but it was difficult, especially since he was still gripping Ginny's hand. The mob of paparazzi seemed more interested in her than they were in him, and he could hear the barrel of questions being shot her way.

"_Ginny, are you pregnant?"_

"_Have you got any names picked out?"_

"_Will you have the wedding before or after the baby arrives?"_

"_Do you plan to return to Quidditch after the baby's born?"_

"_Are you sure Harry's the father?"_

And then she just snapped.

He felt her yank her hand away and stop abruptly. He turned around to see her glaring at the band of reporters, and he tried to catch her attention before she did something they'd both regret. It was too late, though, as she either purposely ignored him or just honestly missed his attempts to stop her.

"_Yes," _she said sharply, her eyes blazing furiously. "I _am _pregnant. Harry _is _the father. The baby's due in December. The wedding's in July. None of you are invited. So stay the hell away from us!"

The circus went even more insane after that. Cameras flashed more profusely, and they were surrounded on every side by people shouting at them. Questions were flying from every possible direction, and Harry didn't know whether to feel relieved or ill. Part of him was glad for it to just be out there. He was getting sick of avoiding the question and trying to hide something that couldn't be hid forever. Another part of him, though, knew that things were going to go even crazier from here on out. They weren't going to be able to step outside without being bombarded with reporters, and he hated that. He'd dealt with that enough in the first months following the war. His life wasn't totally sane now, of course, but it had at least calmed down a bit. He liked it like that, more peaceful.

He could say goodbye to that now.

He was right, of course, in his predictions. In the weeks that followed, they were hounded constantly and at every single turn. While they'd been front page news from the moment of the engagement, they were now front page, second page, third page, fourth page… Every single newspaper seemed to have at least ten stories about them on any given day. It was ridiculous, and it was growing absolutely impossible for them to have any sort of peace at all.

They were staying at her flat in Holyhead. It was better than London in at least that there were less people. She lived in a Wizarding village, though, so there were never less than ten or fifteen reporters and onlookers camped outside her building. They were everywhere, though, and he worried that he might lose his job due to the sudden influx of photographers who seemed to be infiltrating the Ministry and, specifically, the Auror department. Ginny barely left the house at all, and if she did, it was only to Apparate to the Burrow or to Ron and Hermione's. She didn't go anywhere else, and he realized very quickly that they couldn't live that way.

They couldn't live in hiding, but they also couldn't raise a child in an environment where he was hounded by reporters from birth. If he and Ginny were worth this much for tabloid fodder, he could only imagine how much pictures and stories about their child would be worth. It wouldn't be fair to raise him in a world where having strangers snap your photograph was the norm. That was no kind of way to raise a kid, and they both knew it.

So that's why he decided to surprise Ginny with an early wedding present.

He convinced her to join him one afternoon, and when she asked where they were going, he told her it was a surprise. She didn't seem too enthused, but she humored him and went along for the journey. He had a Portkey fashioned because it was dangerous for her to be Apparating to unknown locations while pregnant. They arrived just on the outskirts of the property, and he could tell from the look on her face that she was immediately confused. She looked around questioningly.

"Where are we?"

And then he couldn't stand it anymore. "It's ours!" he said excitedly, grabbing her hand up in his own. "If you like it, of course," he added.

She stared at him in disbelief. Her eyes were wide, and then she turned her head to look in every direction. There was a good bit of land, and the house was a nice size. It had four bedrooms and three baths. There was a decent sized yard, and it was fairly secluded. There were neighbors a couple of miles away, but the best part was that it was in a completely Muggle village. There would be no photographers waiting outside their door here or nosey women running up to try and peek in the window for gossip.

Here, they would just be two normal newlyweds raising a new baby.

Ginny looked at him, speechless it seemed for several long moments. Finally, "Did you buy this?"

"I put a deposit down," he said slowly, suddenly wondering if he'd jumped the gun and if she was going to be furious with him for making such a huge decision without her. "But I can get most of it back if you don't want it."

"Can we _afford _this?"

It wasn't cheap. Still, it wasn't out of their potential budget, either. He was starting to make fairly decent money, and they both already had significant amounts in savings- his from inheritance and hers from a few seasons on a high-ranking Quidditch team. They weren't poor. They were very lucky in that they weren't even struggling.

"We can do it," he said. "I can even work extra shifts if I need to, but it's manageable." She looked overwhelmed and still slightly in shock as she stared at the house in front of them. "Do you like it?" he asked, already worried about the answer.

"It's… I…" She struggled with her wording. "I don't know what to say…" She finally turned to look at him, and her eyes were watering just slightly. "It's _beautiful!"_

He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but all his worries fell away at once. She looked so genuinely happy that he didn't even think about anything else in that moment. It was the happiest he'd seen her look in weeks, and he would take one second of that a million times over all the bullshit they'd recently had to endure.

"Do you want to see inside?" He held out a hand in offering, and she took it eagerly, following him quickly up the walk to the house. He had a key on loan from the seller, and he let them in through the front. It felt incredibly normal and _Muggle, _which was definitely what he was aiming for.

Her face had a look of wonder about it as they stepped through the entryway and into the sitting room. She looked around her in all directions, and he watched her reactions carefully to judge her true opinion. He still had just a tad of worry left in him, but the rest of it disappeared as she looked extremely pleased.

"So what do you think?" he asked, placing one hand on the small of her back as she made her way from room to room. They stopped in the doorway to the kitchen, and she turned around to face him.

"It's amazing," she said seriously. "So beautiful!"

"I just want things to be perfect," he said honestly, feeling a tad bit embarrassed but not enough to care. "For you. And for the baby, you know? I want everything to be perfect…"

"It is," she said, and her eyes were still watering. He wasn't _too _surprised or concerned about that, as she spent half her time crying these days. Her hormones were out of control in every imaginable way, and while some of those ways may have been rather pleasant… the incessant crying over nothing was definitely not something he'd count as good. Still, he was holding out hope that all the books Hermione had forced on him were right and that it wouldn't last forever. The constant shagging? Well, he could live with that if he had to.

"I love you." She laced both of her arms around his neck and tilted her head just slightly upwards to look at him eye to eye. Her eyes were wide and honest, and he hugged her around the waist.

"It's all Muggle. No one'll bother us here."

She smiled. "I know. And they won't bother the baby, either."

"Maybe he'll grow up and be halfway normal."

She moved one hand from around his neck and used it to cover his mouth. "It's a girl," she said firmly. "Positive thinking."

Then she moved her hand away and kissed him quickly.

"Why is it only positive thinking if it's a girl?" He honestly didn't care either way, but it was rather fun teasing her.

"Because you'll probably get mad if your son wears ribbons and dresses, now won't you?"

He smirked and said nothing, just shut up as she kissed him again. She was in a good mood, and he wanted to keep her that way as long as possible. He was happy that she was happy, and all he wanted to do was stay that way forever. These were those perfect moments- the moments when it was just the two of them. There were no reporters, no onlookers, no mothers or pushy families… just the two of them. Soon, it would be just the two of them plus one.

And for the first time, he felt like he couldn't wait.

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A/N: Everybody gets a little bit of happy, now don't they?


	17. Dresses and Doubts

**BACK TO THE BEGINNING**

**Chapter 17**

**DRESSES AND DOUBTS**

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The acceptance letter arrived on a Tuesday.

Ron wasn't even around to get it, as he was working a double shift at the shop. Hermione actually received it and took it upon herself to open it. He didn't mind, of course, because it wasn't as if there was anything secretive about it or anything like that. Besides, he knew that she probably wouldn't have been able to wait until he got home anyway. She was nearly as excited as he was about the prospect of his joining up with the Aurors, and she'd been almost more impatient for the results than he himself was.

She rushed right over to the shop to tell him, flying straight through the front doors and straight into his arms. _"You got in!" _she said excitedly, shoving the open letter toward him as she loosened her grip on his neck and took a step backwards. Then she blushed a little and apologized to the customer he was assisting. Luckily, the woman he was helping didn't seem to mind and just laughed a little and shooed them away, saying she was fine.

He thanked her and hurried after Hermione who was already halfway back to the stockroom. She was almost bouncing with excitement, which was always one of her best bounces. She was smiling so widely that he wondered if her face hurt, but he didn't ask because, of course, he was excited, too, and anxious to actually read the letter. Sure enough, there it was in black and white.

He was going to the Auror Academy.

It didn't even seem real. He'd honestly been worried that he wouldn't be accepted, as so much time had passed since his last schooling of any sort. He was thankful now, though, that even though he hadn't finished his Seventh Year, he'd taken his NEWTs back when things were still fresh in his mind, as he was very positive he wouldn't be able to pass them if he were to take them now. He couldn't believe that they'd finally paid off, though…

"This is amazing!" Hermione was bubbling with excitement. It made him even happier than he would have normally been by the news. She hugged him again, throwing both of her arms around his neck and standing up on tiptoe to squeeze him tightly. He hugged her back, still rather in shock by the news that the letter had brought.

When she pulled away, he read the words again, taking them in this time and processing them a bit more thoroughly. Something, though, stood out over the rest.

"I have to leave in two weeks." Saying it out loud made him realize that he wasn't sure he was at all ready to go.

Hermione, apparently, had also noticed this and frowned just a little bit. "Yeah. Just a few days after the wedding."

The wedding was approaching quickly and was just over a week away. He already knew that any time between now and then would be spent preparing for the wedding, so that wasn't going to give him much time at all to convince himself that leaving for training wasn't going to be that bad.

The training was a year-long. The year was broken up into six different training sessions with a week-long holiday in between each. So that meant that in two weeks time, he'd be gone for two months straight. That was a long time. A _really _long time. It was especially long considering the fact that he'd never spent that long away from Hermione. In fact, he'd never spent even a night away from her since literally the day she'd returned from her last year at Hogwarts. She'd moved in with him right away, and even though she occasionally got angry with him and tossed him out of the bedroom, they'd never spent the night separately since.

And just thinking about it made his stomach hurt a little bit.

Hermione, though, stayed happy the whole night. He slipped out of work a bit early because she said she wanted to go to dinner to celebrate. She was extremely smiley and in a good mood the whole time. He had a feeling that even if he tried, she wouldn't argue with him or get angry, but he didn't want to try. He liked having her like this- it made him feel a bit more at ease with the prospect of going away. But as she chatted away excitedly about everything and nothing over pasta and wine, he couldn't make the feeling in his stomach go away.

Sometimes, if he really thought about it, his feelings scared him. Well, maybe scared was the wrong word… Or maybe not. It really did frighten him how _much _he felt for her. He couldn't be without her- he didn't know _how _to be without her. She was his whole life, and the way he felt about her was, well, scary. She probably didn't even know just how much he depended on her and counted on her to make his life okay, but she meant everything in the world to him. He was more scared of losing her than he was of anything he'd ever been scared of in his entire life. He'd never done anything to deserve her, and his biggest fear was that one day she would realize how much better she should be doing and leave. On top of that, he still couldn't guarantee her safety as much as he wanted to. Things had been quiet for years now, but that didn't stop the ever-present worry that hovered over all of them. As a whole, they'd never quite got past glancing over their shoulders at random instances. He still had nightmares from time to time and was forced to recall being locked in a cellar as she screamed desperately from above. It was hands down the _worst _moment of his entire life, and it was that moment that he knew would always stay in his subconscious ready to draw up nightmares. But it was also the moment he drew upon whenever she would make him so angry that he'd want to hex her to oblivion. It reminded him that no matter what, he couldn't ever lose her. He could lose everything and everyone else in the world and still be alright, but he couldn't lose _her._

And he didn't want to leave her for even a day. Much less for three months.

Hermione did not let him entertain this thought out loud, though, and over the next couple of days, she always changed the subject if he brought up the second thoughts that were constantly flooding his mind. He had a feeling that she was having the same sort of thoughts but was doing her best to keep him focused because she thought if she didn't, he would pass up an opportunity that he really wanted. She was being supportive, and he loved her for it. But he also wanted to know her honest opinion.

He valued it more than anything.

On Monday, they had to go to his mum's for a "final fitting." He didn't know what the point of his being there was, as he hadn't changed in size at all since the first fitting. The robes would fit exactly the same now as they had a month and a half ago. Hermione didn't seem to think it was ridiculous, though, and she dragged him along. He had a feeling that she simply didn't want to go to his house alone, considering the fact that she and his mum were still somewhat on the outs. Hermione, of course, was still pretending not to notice, but it was clear that she did and clear that she wasn't entirely comfortable being with his mother alone these days.

They were met with the same halfway fake smile and welcome that they'd grown accusomted to lately. She offered them something to eat, which they both declined, and then she seemed to forget they were there for a purpose as she wondered back into the kitchen to finish making whatever she was making anyway. He and Hermione looked at each other, and then both rolled their eyes and sat down on the sofa. He noticed immediately how tired she looked, so he reached for her legs and pulled them across his lap, dragging her closer until she was near enough to lay her head back against his shoulder. She'd been up for ages, having gone into work early so she could leave at lunchtime for the fitting.

"Did you tell your parents about the Auror thing yet?" she asked as she turned one of his hands over in her lap and started drawing shapeless figures in his palm.

"Not yet." Truthfully, he hadn't told many people at all. She knew, of course, and so did Harry and Ginny. He'd talked to George, too, obviously, to make sure that everything was going to be alright if he left. George didn't seem upset, he actually seemed really happy for him. He told him he thought it was a good idea and told him everything would be fine at the shop. He'd been back to work fulltime for awhile, and they had plenty of help. Everything was going to be fine on that end.

Hermione didn't say anything else about the subject. She didn't nag him and tell him that it was time he started telling people, as they were probably all going to wonder where he'd gone when he disappeared in a week and a half. She just sat there with her head on his shoulder, tracing random things into his hand, and all he wanted to do was stay right there in that moment forever. He didn't want to think about the fact that in a few days, he wouldn't see her at all, much less have her close like this. He suddenly didn't know if he was doing the right thing at all because he couldn't come up with too many reasons why he should willingly leave this. _This? _Was perfect.

He was just about to verbalize this, but Ginny showed up. She stumbled in through the Floo, as apparently Apparating wasn't entirely safe while pregnant, and got soot all over the carpet. She grumbled angrily as she shoved bits of it off of her clothes. She clearly wasn't in a good mood, and she sort of just sneered at Ron and Hermione in way of a greeting.

Their mum came bustling back into the sitting room at the noise and immediately went over and started helping Ginny clean up. She'd been fawning all over Ginny for weeks now, which was surprising given her initial reaction to the pregnancy. However, her excitement over another potential grandchild seemed to have taken the place of her immediate anger. Ron didn't know what the big damn deal was, really, seeing as how there were already plenty of brats running around as it was. But he thought a good bit of it probably had to do with the fact that it was her own daughter actually _having _the kid this time instead of one of her son's wives. Ron thought this wasn't entirely fair, but he certainly wasn't going to bring it up.

"I have soup on in the kitchen," she said sweetly. "I can make you up some sandwiches as well."

Ginny, still looking thoroughly pissed off at the world, shrugged disinterestedly but then nodded.

"Okay, just have a seat, and I'll bring it to you." She stopped for a second and then looked once again at Ron and Hermione. "You don't want anything?" Her tone was considerably less friendly, and Ron thought about requesting something intricate and complicated just to piss her off. But Hermione shook her head for both of them and cut him off.

"What's up with you?" Ron asked as their mother disappeared and Ginny flopped down into one of the armchairs huffily.

"Oh, nothing," she said sarcastically. "Except for the fact that I'm supposed to get _married _on Saturday and have seen Harry for _maybe _a total of four hours all weekend."

Ron didn't even bother trying not to roll his eyes. Hermione momentarily stopped tracing his palm and raised her eyebrows. "Um, he's working, Ginny."

"Yeah, while I have to take care of everything all by myself and do _everything!" _She looked ready to hex someone. "And we're supposed to move by the end of the month, too! Ask me how much is ready for the new house? _Nothing!" _she answered her own question.

Ron and Hermione both said nothing for a very long moment. It was clear that Ginny was apparently approaching some sort of hysteria, and they both sat silently and pondered the best way to respond. Finally, Hermione spoke up carefully.

"Well, he can't exactly just quit his job, Ginny…"

"I didn't ask him to!" she snapped back hatefully. "But he should make a little time in his life for important things like, oh, our _wedding!"_

"I'm pretty sure he asked off for the wedding." Hermione smacked him in the chest the second he said it.

Ginny glared at him.

The fitting went exactly as Ron imagined it would. The robes fit exactly the same as they had before, and nothing changed whatsoever. He put them on quickly to satisfy his mother and then yanked them off even more quickly, feeling very suffocated by them already. The girls had it a bit more complicated, though, and he watched boredly as they both tried on their respective dresses.

Hermione looked gorgeous, of course, but he wasn't surprised, as she was always beautiful. Her dress had needed slight alterations but now seemed to fit perfectly. Even his mum approved, which said a lot because he sort of imagined she might use the situation as an excuse to "accidentally" jam a straight pin into Hermione's back. She did not.

Ginny, though, was a completely different story.

"Oh, my god, I'm too fat for my _wedding dress!" _she screamed hysterically as Hermione attempted, and failed, to zip up the back.

Ron knew well enough to keep his mouth shut and not say a _word. _Hermione looked like she wanted to disappear, but she did her best to try and remedy the situation. "No, you're not," she assured her. "It's almost there, just suck it in a little bit."

"I can't suck it in!" She was starting to panic. "It won't suck!"

The sentence in itself was rather amusing, but Ron had a feeling that if he so much as cracked a smile that he would pay for it dearly. So instead, he just bit down hard on his back teeth and tried to distract himself. He found the distraction when he actually looked at Ginny and saw for the first time the slightest hint of roundness in her belly as the dress's material stretched against it tightly. Up until that point, he hadn't seen any indication whatsoever that she was actually pregnant other than the constant eating and vomiting she seemed to do. But there it was, just barely, but it was there. A tiny little baby bump.

He didn't have a chance to get sentimental about his little sister, though, because their mum came hurrying back in frantically. "What's all the noise?" she demanded, looking around at all of them and stopping on Ginny who now had tears splashing down her face.

"I'm too fat for my dress! It doesn't fit!"

"Oh, stop." Ron watched as his mum shooed Hermione out of the way and took over the spot behind her daughter. "It just needs a bit of adjusting." She took out of her wand and waved it, easily expanding the dress the extra inch it needed to zip comfortably. "There, it's fine."

Ginny was still crying as she turned and looked at her reflection in the mirror. "I look like a humungous fat cow," she said miserably. "I look awful!"

"Well, no one looks beautiful crying like a crazy person." Ron thought his mum must be extremely brave to go there, and he said nothing as she carried on carelessly. "You don't look fat. You can't even tell, now stop being dramatic."

She disappeared again, and Ginny was left stunned. Ron had a feeling she was about to explode, and as he glanced at Hermione, he got the feeling she was having the same thoughts.

"You can't even _tell?" _Ginny asked slowly and dangerously. "So I _always _look this fat?"

"You're not fat, Ginny," Hermione said carefully. "You look beautiful. This dress is gorgeous."

"You look better than me," Ginny said glumly. "Everyone at the wedding is going to wonder why he's marrying the fat, ugly one instead of the skinny, pretty one."

Hermione rolled her eyes and didn't even respond to that. Instead, she walked over to the desk and brought back the veil. She fluffed it up a bit and then arranged it carefully on Ginny's head. "It looks _amazing!" _she said excitedly, smiling widely. And that seemed to change Ginny's mood just a bit as she turned to look once more in the mirror. Apparently the veil set the entire thing off, making it much more pleasing to her and making her forget that she was apparently a 'humungous fat cow.' But when she took the veil off and slung it over Hermione, both of them giggling very girlishly, Ron felt the same familiar lump in his stomach that he'd been feeling for days now.

He couldn't watch and _not _imagine what it would be like if the roles were reversed. Part of him even wished that they _were, _and that it was _Hermione _who was complaining about not being able to fit a wedding dress over her pregnant stomach. He knew, of course, that that wasn't the ideal order to do things, but he couldn't help feeling a little bit envious.

Trying to shake off the feeling, he got up to leave the girls alone and went to find his mother. She was at the kitchen table working on centerpieces, obviously having decided to go full out for this wedding and spare nothing. She looked up when he entered but didn't stop what she was doing.

"Did your sister calm down?"

He nodded, sliding into one of the other chairs. "She's been acting crazy a lot lately."

"It's her hormones." His mother said this as calmly and lazily as Hermione always did. Hermione was reading everything there was to know about pregnancy and was eerily able to predict each and every single mood swing that Ginny was going to have. It was a little bit scary.

"So I wanted to tell you…" he said carefully, watching for her reaction, "I applied to the Auror Academy. And I got in."

His mum finally stopped what she was doing and looked up. He couldn't tell at first what she was thinking, but then her face broke into a little smile. "That's wonderful," she said, and it sounded totally genuine.

He was relieved, and he nodded, feeling a bit more at ease. "Yeah. But I have to leave next Wednesday."

"For how long?"

"Two months. It's a year broken up into two month increments."

She looked surprised by this, and her eyes widened slightly. "That's a long time…"

He nodded.

"And Hermione's okay with that?"

"We don't really have a choice," he defended. "If I'm going to be an Auror, I've got to go to training."

"It just seems like a long time. I thought she might not be too happy about it."

He was frustrated, not really because of _what _his mother was saying, but because it was the truth. _He _wasn't too happy about it. He couldn't think of many things worse than having to leave for a year and go months without seeing her. It was terrible, and it made him want to forget the whole thing.

"And can you afford to do this?" she asked. "A year is a long time with no paycheck. Or do you get paid for training?"

"We get a stipend." He didn't mention that the stipend was even less than what was he currently making. They were already struggling as it was, and he worried about even paying the rent once he wasn't bringing in a full check. He knew Hermione was excellent with finances and that she would keep them afloat, though. He imagined that if the situation were reversed and _he _was the one responsible for handling their expenses alone, they'd be evicted within a month. Hermione, though, would make sure all the bills were paid no matter what.

"Well, if you need it, Dad and I can try to help." His mum was looking at him very seriously, and he felt a sudden wave of affection. Still, though, he shook his head.

"We'll be fine."

He wasn't going to ask his parents for money, as they didn't have an overabundance of it themselves. They had more than they used to, of course, now that all their children were supporting themselves, but they still weren't wealthy by any means. They were especially going to be cleaned out after this wedding, and while Ron appreciated the sentiment, he would never think of asking them. If anything, they'd go to Hermione's parents if they found themselves in desperate need for money, but they wouldn't enjoy _that, _either. They'd done alright so far, and they would continue to do alright. They would make it.

"I think you'll be great," his mum said, cutting into his thoughts sharply. "I know this is what you really want to do."

That made him feel better, but he still couldn't shake the dull ache he felt at the thought of leaving. He didn't even know if he was going to be able to actually do it. He didn't know if he even _wanted _to.

And all these sudden doubts didn't do much to help the pain in his stomach.

-----------------------------------

A/N: Thanks for reading!


	18. Sullied Seduction

**BACK TO THE BEGINNING**

**Chapter 18**

**SULLIED SEDUCTION**

----------------------------------------------------

Having never planned a hen night before, Hermione was rather unsure of exactly what to do.

She'd attended a few, but she'd certainly never been in charge of one. She had no idea what events to plan for a bride who was four months pregnant and, therefore, unable to partake in many of the more traditional hen night events. In fact, she had no idea what events to plan for a bride getting married under supposedly _normal _circumstances. She was inexperienced in this area, but as the sole bridesmaid, it was her responsibility.

So she enlisted Angelina to help.

Angelina had been MIA for the past few months now taking care of the baby. She'd managed to avoid plenty of family duties and expectations by claiming newborn duty. Hermione was half-afraid that she would give the same excuse to get out of this, but she was pleasantly surprised to find that apparently hen nights were exciting enough for Angelina to pass the baby off to George for a few nights and help her get things sorted.

First off, she'd insisted firmly, they were _not _cutting out the alcohol simply because Ginny could not partake. It was ridiculous to deny everyone else fun just because Ginny couldn't join in. Hermione thought this was a bit cruel, considering the fact that it _was, _after all, Ginny's party. She kept this thought to herself, though, because she gathered that Angelina didn't give two shits about her opinion. Secondly, they were going to have the wedding at Shell Cottage. Angelina did not care if Fleur protested or had a varying opinion. She had the best setting for a July hen party- right on the beach. Plus, it was plenty big enough for everyone to enjoy themselves, as it wasn't exactly like they could take this party out in public. Hermione agreed on that end. She could just imagine the way they'd be hounded by the photographers and reporters if they even _attempted _to head to a public place. Things would be much better, and much _quieter, _if they did things at one of their homes.

Hermione asked if they absolutely _had _to invite Audrey, but Angelina told her they did. Of course, she followed that up with a throwaway statement that they could "accidentally" lock her in the loo without her wand. The rest of the guest-list was easy. They'd asked Ginny who she wanted, and after several minutes of grumblings about how she didn't even want a damn party, she finally begrudgingly gave her list- her sisters-in-law (minus Audrey- Angelina told her she had no choice), Luna, a couple of old friends from school, and four specific members of the Harpies. Hermione asked why she didn't want to invite the whole team, and Ginny laughed as if being asked to answer an idiotic question. Hermione didn't ask again and just assumed that the four requested were the best bets anyway.

Thankfully, things went along smoothly. Fleur not only agreed to let them use her house, she also agreed to make them all dinner. Hermione did not complain about this because as annoying as Fleur might occasionally (or often) be, she was an extremely good cook. Her French dishes were _especially _delicious, and Hermione hoped that Ginny would be craving French cuisine, as that's what she was getting. Like it or not.

So that's what Hermione went into the evening believing she was getting- a few friends, a nice dinner, and maybe some wine. And that's what she _got… _for about an hour.

Victoire was the only child in attendance, as she'd apparently thrown a huge fit and cried until Fleur gave in and allowed her to stay. She entertained them all during dinner, telling huge tales and, every now and then, throwing in bits of private gossip that would have her mother clearing her throat loudly. Everyone oohed and aahed over her, especially the attendees who were not direct family. Several of them had never seen her before and seemed to think she was the cutest thing in the entire universe. Hermione wouldn't lie and say that she wasn't adorable. She was. She was beautiful in an extremely striking sort of way that very closely resembled her mother- the Veela genes were apparently _very _strong. On top of that, though, she was very high-spirited and colorful, always smiling, telling jokes, and otherwise entertaining anyone who would give her a tiny bit of attention.

She told anyone who would listen how she had a "job" at the wedding and was going "throw the flowers." She was clearly very excited by the prospect, and Hermione did not doubt for a moment that she would literally be throwing flowers all the way down the wedding aisle. In fact, she was quite sure that more than a few of the guests would end up spitting rose petals out after Vic passed them.

It didn't take long for sleepiness to overtake the four year old, though, and pretty soon, Victoire was falling asleep at the table. Fleur sent her to bed, and Hermione honestly thought that the evening would wind down rather quickly. Apparently she was wrong, though, because the second Vic was out of the room, the atmosphere changed dramatically. Once again, it was thanks to Angelina who was apparently more than eager to consume as much alcohol as possible in the short amount of time away from her baby. Hermione didn't know whether to find this amusing or a little bit scary, but it didn't matter either way, as Angelina certainly wasn't looking for anyone's approval.

There was plenty of other alcohol on top of the wine as the party moved into the sitting room, and Ginny made no secret of pouting over the fact. "It's not nice of everyone to get drunk at _my _hen night when _I _can't," she snapped as bottles started circulating.

Hermione wanted to step in and support this statement, but Angelina beat her to it. "Look, Gin. We all love you, but it's not our fault you can't drink. This is exactly why you shouldn't be pregnant when you get married." She downed a shot of something dark to reiterate this point, and then said, "Remember that, Hermione."

Hermione looked up at that and didn't really know how to react. "What? I'm not pregnant. Or getting married."

"_Yet," _Angelina specified. "I give it a year."

"Until what?" Hermione demanded, rather offended by the suggestion, though she had no idea why.

"Until both." Angelina took another shot of the same dark liquid and then passed the bottle over to her. "And if Ginny can't get drunk, it's up to you to do it in her honor."

Hermione took the bottle and glanced over at Ginny who rolled her eyes and shrugged begrudgingly. Then she got her thoughts together well enough to respond. "Ron's _leaving _for the next year, so I sort of doubt it."

She realized right away that no one else besides Ginny even knew that he was going. It wasn't exactly a secret, but it wasn't something they'd talked about a lot with everyone else. She could feel everyone staring at her for an explanation, so she tried to act as nonchalantly as possible.

"He's going to Auror training," she explained with a shrug, and then she took a drink straight from the bottle she was holding. It tasted awful and literally felt as if she were swallowing fire. Still, drinking it gave her something to do.

She was glad that no one asked a lot of questions. There was a murmur of what she assumed was good thoughts, but she didn't pay much attention to it. She didn't want anyone to ask her anything, and she didn't want to talk about it. If possible, she wished that she could just forget about it all together, and then maybe she wouldn't feel so bad. She couldn't exactly say anything to Ron, of course, but she didn't want him to go at all. She felt guilty, of course, because she knew it was what he wanted and that it would give them both a better future. But still, thinking about spending the next year without him always made her feel awful, and she was dreading next Wednesday more than she'd ever dreaded anything.

So instead of talking about it, she just took another drink.

It didn't take long for her to realize that the more she drank, the less it burned swallowing. She figured this out after about five swigs from the firewhiskey bottle she was holding. It wasn't the _first _time she'd tasted it, but it was the first time she'd ever drank it intently. If she drank, she normally stuck to wine, and she limited herself to a glass or two at the most. She never drank to get drunk, which she quickly realized could be very problematic. As she was such an infrequent drinker, she had an extremely low alcohol tolerance. It didn't take much at all to make her light-headed, and she was less than horrified to find the feeling extremely fantastic. This, of course, only fueled her to drink more.

It seemed that everyone at the party was in agreement that she should get drunk in Ginny's place. She wasn't quite sure how that honor landed to her, but she didn't turn down the drinks or shots that the other gave her, either. She found herself getting drunk rather quickly, which was both unfamiliar and thrilling all at once. She hated to admit how fun it was because part of her knew that she was behaving extremely out of character. But she couldn't make herself care. She realized that the more she drank, the less she thought. And the less she thought, the less she felt. For the first time in days, she didn't feel stressed by the wedding, overwhelmed by work, or saddened by the thought of being alone for the next year. In fact, she didn't even realize how much tension she had built inside of her until she started drinking it away.

And she _loved _it.

Part of her was aware that everyone in attendance was also being amused by her current state, but she didn't let it bother her. They were all having fun together, and she was enjoying herself. She laughed more than she had in ages, and for the first time ever, she actually didn't want to kill Audrey. Fleur was the only one who seemed less than amused by the situation, but that probably had something to do with the entire bottle of red wine that spilled onto her carpet. Hermione didn't know what the big deal was and asked her what the point of magic was if she didn't use it to clean up wine stains. Then she offered to fix it herself, but was quickly diverted as she fumbled around for her wand. Apparently, being drunk and using a wand were two things that weren't looked upon approvingly.

When she was good and drunk, she went to the loo and forced Ginny with her. And then, as she was washing her hands, she made a confession.

"I think I'm a bad person."

Ginny was clearly confused by the cryptic statement, and Hermione had no idea why she found this fact a little amusing. "What're you talking about?"

"I don't want Ron to go!" she said, and then she dropped her voice to a whisper, suddenly paranoid as if someone was in the bathroom with them eavesdropping. "I just… I don't want him to go, and that's horrible because he's wanted to do this ever since we were just kids!"

"That doesn't make you a bad person."

"It makes me unsupportive, and that's bad!" She reached to steady herself against the counter and missed, causing herself to trip just a bit, which resulted in them both giggling inopportunely.

"It's not unsupportive," Ginny said, still smiling. "It's just normal. I mean, who _would _want their boyfriend to go away for a year? I think that's a pretty normal reaction."

"I feel awful."

"Did you tell Ron?"

"Of course not! If I told him that, he wouldn't go. Then he would resent me forever, and everything would just be awful!"

"I think it's going to be okay," Ginny said, and Hermione got the feeling from her tone that she was somewhat trying to appease her or humor her. She recognized the tone because it was the one she herself used around drunk people when they started becoming irrational. She was fairly certain she should be offended, but she couldn't force herself.

"I'm sorry your party is crap," she said seriously, suddenly feeling guilty.

Ginny, though, just returned a placating smile. "It isn't crap. It's fine."

"Everyone's drunk but you!"

"Actually, I think you're the only drunk one…"

Hermione frowned and sighed. "I know," she admitted. "I don't know how that happened…"

"Blame it on Angie," Ginny said, smirking just a little bit.

"I know you're not having any fun. I'm sorry."

"I _am _having fun," Ginny smiled again. "Anyway, we'll make up for it at _your _party. Let's make a pact to _not _be pregnant for it, okay?"

Hermione couldn't help smiling back and nodded. "Deal."

And then the rest of the night flew by in a blur. Hermione found herself drifting very quickly from drunk to oblivious, and when someone told her it was time to go, she was shocked to find that it was nearly 2 AM. Of course, she could also barely walk, so she wasn't too surprised when she was forbidden from Apparating. It wouldn't have been an entirely smart idea anyway, as she was almost certain to splinch herself or worse in the attempt. However, she _was _a little bit surprised to hear that she wasn't even allowed to Floo by herself. She thought that was a little bit ridiculous, but she couldn't think of enough words to make a valid argument. So she just went with it.

Ginny took her home, and she realized why it was important to have a chaperone. She couldn't remember which grate to take, and she probably would have ended up in Egypt or somewhere if she'd tried to take the trip by herself. Not to mention, of course, that standing up straight on her own was a bit of a task, so she needed someone to help her balance. And when she saw her living room come into view as Ginny forced her out of the grate, she was thankful for the help.

They made a lot of noise stumbling, and Ginny swore rather loudly at one point. As late it as it was, Hermione wasn't surprised when Ron showed up to investigate. In fact, she was very pleased to see him, and she hugged him straight away. As she wrapped both arms around him and buried her face into his chest, she distinctly heard the words whispered from behind her.

"She's drunk."

She lifted her head and tilted it straight back. Ron was looking at her curiously, as though trying to gauge if she was, in fact, intoxicated. Apparently the wide, full-toothed smile she offered in return was enough to convince him.

The look he gave her in return was almost amusing. He looked shocked and more than a little confused, and he stared at her for several long moments until Ginny finally spoke up again.

"Have fun with that."

She left after that, heading out the same way they'd arrived through the fire. Hermione didn't know why she was still smiling or why her head was still tilted so far back, but she had a feeling that if she were to switch positions, she would end up falling over.

"How much did you have to drink?" he asked, eyeing her carefully as he kept one hand on her back, steadying her.

She shrugged. "Just a little, I think."

He snorted. "Right. Just a little doesn't make you slur your words like that."

"I'm not slurring my words!" she protested, but even as she said it, she could hear the way they all ran together.

It made her laugh.

He was amused, too, because he smiled at her. "And you know it's two in the morning, right?" He used the hand that wasn't steadying her to smooth down some of her hair.

"I don't know how that happened."

He raised one corner of his lip higher and nodded. "Do you want some water or something? Before you go to bed? I think it'll help you."

She didn't see how water was going to do anything except make her have to pee even more than she already did. It was amazing, she'd discovered, that the myth about "breaking the seal" was apparently true. She'd never been to the bathroom so many times in the course of one evening as she had tonight. So she shook her head in response to his question about water.

He raised his eyebrows in a way that let her know he didn't necessarily agree with her. Still, he didn't argue with her. Instead, he just patted her head again and said, "Okay, let's go to bed then."

"I need you to carry me."

The words were out of her mouth before she had time to think about them. Not that it mattered, of course, because she was being completely serious.

"Oh, your legs forgot how to work?" She had the distinct feeling that he was taking the piss, but she neither knew for sure nor cared.

"No, I think they still know how," she said honestly. "But I just don't feel like walking anymore."

Walking to the center of the sitting room had tired her, and she looked up at him as pitifully as possible. It worked. He gave a little sigh, but he picked her up anyway. She smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing his cheek quickly.

"Am I heavy?"

He shook his head, bemused.

And she grinned widely before whispering, "That's the right answer." Then she held up a hand for him to slap her five, and he did, causing them both to laugh.

He carried her back to their bedroom, which, admittedly, was not very far. Still, she felt intensely grateful and loved him for it. She especially liked the fact that even though it was a bit unceremoniously, he sat her down gently instead of just dropping her. She immediately fell straight back and stretched out, using her feet to kick each of her shoes off. She was aware of the fact that this would drive her insane normally and that it was something she had, in fact, lectured Ron about many times. Luckily, though, he didn't choose to point this out.

"Don't you want to change clothes?"

She ignored the question and reached both arms up toward him. "Come here. I have to tell you a secret."

He humored her, stepping around to her side of the bed. "What's the secret?"

"Come here," she said again, bending her fingers in a reaching motion to make him come closer. He bent down and had to balance his hands on either side of her when she grabbed the back of his head and looked at him intently.

"Yeah?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, and she thought he was terribly cute.

"I think I'm drunk," she whispered, and the look on his face made her giggle.

"You think?" he asked, clearly amused.

She nodded slowly and then smiled as seductively as she could manage in her current state. "I think you should probably take advantage of me," she went on, still whispering, "because I don't think I'll probably ever be this intoxicated again."

He laughed then, and gently gripped her chin to nudge her head sideways. "You're silly."

But she didn't give up. Instead, she used her grip on his head to pull him in tightly for a kiss. It felt good, and she enjoyed every second of it. She was used to enjoying kissing him, but it felt slightly different mixed with alcohol. She liked it. She especially liked it when he finally gave in and kissed her back.

And then it was over.

"You need to change," he said, lifting his head just out of the reach of her mouth. She still had her hands positioned behind his neck, though, and she pulled him down easily. He couldn't keep his balance this time and actually fell on top of her for several quick seconds before he rolled over in what was probably some effort not to crush her. She didn't really care if he crushed her, she just wanted to be close to him. So she rolled, too, hugging him from the side tightly before moving even further and actually seating herself on his stomach. She smiled brightly as she looked down at him and used both of her hands to push hair out of her face and over her shoulders.

"I was being serious," she told him. She lowered her voice again. "I want you take advantage of me."

He was biting his lip in what she knew was an obvious attempt not to laugh. He tried to speak as seriously as possible. "You're drunk."

"I know." And she bent forward to kiss him again, letting her hands rest on either side of his head. He didn't resist her and kissed her back right away this time, though she had a feeling that was as far as her seduction attempt was going to go at the moment. "I love you," she whispered against his lips, and then she gave in and laid her head down against his shoulder, closing her eyes to the soothing of his hands playing in her hair.

"You want to change clothes?" he asked again, kissing her ear quickly.

But she shook her head, burrowing herself even closer to him. He was warm, and if she wasn't going to seduce him, she was going to make herself as comfortable as possible. Besides, she didn't have much time left to snuggle with him before he left her in a week. The thought made her sad, but even drunk, she knew better than to say it out loud. She wasn't going to say or do anything that would keep him from following his dream.

Even if it physically made her heart hurt in the meantime.

----------------------------------------------------

A/N: The wedding's next!


	19. Make Up and Messes

**BACK TO THE BEGINNING**

**Chapter 19**

**MAKE UP AND MESSES**

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Ginny woke up on her wedding day with her usual bout of morning sickness.

The nausea, vomiting, etc. was all supposed to wear off after the first few months- at least according to everyone she spoke with and everything she read. However, she'd yet to see any slackening of it whatsoever. She was waiting, of course, rather patiently she thought, but she was just about over being sick.

"So this isn't exactly how you always pictured the morning of your wedding, huh?"

She was just finishing up at the toilet when she heard the voice from behind her. Hermione was standing in the doorway, leaning her head against the wall and looking as tired as she sounded. She did not, however, appear grossed out or sickened by the sight of someone getting sick over a toilet so early in the morning. She just stifled a yawn instead.

"You're here early," Ginny observed as she made her way over to the sink and started brushing her teeth.

She'd spent the night at the Burrow, mostly because her mum had guilted her into it but also because it just made more sense to have things run as smoothly as possible. Hermione, though, had _not _slept over, so Ginny was surprised to seeing her standing in the bathroom at just after eight in the morning.

"Your mum told me to come," she said, yawning again. "I mean she literally came to my flat this morning, came into the bedroom, woke me up, and told me to come over here. Literally."

Ginny just shook her head and said nothing as she continued brushing her teeth. She wasn't really surprised, but it still didn't make it any less mental.

"And I thought she must have a job for me to do or something, right?" Hermione shook her head. "I get here, and she's just… _go take care of Ginny."_

Ginny spit out her toothpaste and wiped her mouth. "So I need a babysitter?"

"Yes. Apparently. Good thing I'm an excellent babysitter." Hermione smiled. "Remember that when James is born, so I can keep him all the time."

"I don't know who you're referring to," Ginny said stubbornly, and Hermione smiled even wider, apparently waking up finally.

"You're getting married!"

It had been, of course, the very first thought to enter Ginny's mind that morning. It both thrilled her and terrified her, and she had a feeling that her stomach would be nothing but knots of nerves anyway even if she _weren't _pregnant. Still, hearing it out loud made her hear flutter more than a tiny bit.

"I know," she said, surprised at how breathless she sounded.

"Are you excited?"

"Yeah," Ginny nodded, barely able to suppress her grin. "And scared shitless, too."

Hermione laughed and for once didn't chastise her for her language. "Your mum's got breakfast if you want it."

Ginny cringed at the thought. "I just puked up last night's dinner. I'm not ready for the next fill up yet."

They ended up back in her bedroom shortly after that, and she felt very relaxed as she fell back against her pillows. Hermione sat down on the foot of the bed and looked around in a way that was almost reminiscent.

"I haven't been in here in forever," she said, picking mindlessly at a loose string on the bedspread. "It looks exactly the same."

"Well, not much sense in changing it, is there?" Ginny glanced around, too. "It's not as if I'm here enough for it to matter anyway."

Hermione shrugged one shoulder and gave a half-nod. "When I think about growing up, this is really the room I think of. Even more than my own."

"Well," Ginny said slowly, "you did kind of spend a lot of time here…"

It was true, too. Hermione had spent nearly every summer with them since she was about thirteen years old. She'd been pretty much a permanent fixture at the Burrow for several years before she and Ron ever decided to be anything other than friends, and she'd spent all those years sharing Ginny's room. Until…

"Until you grew up and decided to abandon me and switch roommates on me."

She was joking, but Hermione's cheeks heated up with the slightest tinge of pink anyway as she shrugged carelessly and said, "It'd been a rough year." They both laughed at that, and Hermione rolled her eyes. "And anyway, if I _hadn't _switched you roommates, we might not even be sitting here right now."

"Well, that's true," Ginny conceded, raising one shoulder. "And you also fixed Ron a little bit, so I guess I should thank you for that, too."

Hermione beamed and jokingly patted herself on the back.

"Where _is _my brother, anyway?"

The smile faded, and Hermione rolled her eyes. "Probably still passed out in bed where I left him."

"Mum didn't wake him up?"

"She tried. He pretended to wake up long enough for her to leave, and then he went back to bed."

"Figures."

"And your husband- _soon to be- _is passed out in my sitting room. I think your mum tried to get him up as well, but he didn't make it, either."

"Oh, _fantastic," _Ginny said sarcastically. "Maybe he'll sleep right through the wedding, and then I'll not only be a pregnant bride, I'll be a pregnant _jilted _bride."

Hermione was amused. "I'm pretty sure he'll wake up in time for the wedding. Maybe just barely, but I can almost guarantee you a hundred percent that he'll make it."

Ginny sighed loudly and crossed her arms. "So what did those two idiots get up to last night that's left them both so knackered they can't even be bothered to come help set up?"

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know. They weren't home when I fell asleep last night, and I didn't even know Harry was there at all until I almost tripped over him on the way to the kitchen. He's literally passed out in the middle of the floor."

"Drunk, I assume?"

"I'd say that's a fair assessment…"

"I swear to you," Ginny said seriously, "if they show up drunk to my wedding, I will kill them both without a second thought. I _swear."_

"They'll be sober," Hermione promised. "They just have to actually wake up…"

"Why would they think it was a good idea to go out the night _before?"_

"Well, they're not very smart…" Hermione said slowly. "Trust me, I've been trying to change that for years… But don't worry, it's going to be fine."

The rest of the day was spent handling a wide variety of minor emergencies that seemed to be the hugest deal in the world. Ginny wasn't surprised that each little issue felt like a world-class disaster, as she could literally feel her blood pressure rising with the nerves and anxiety of the day. Hermione spent her time back and forth between the Burrow and her flat where she, presumably, was shouting at Ron and Harry to get up and get moving. Each time she returned, she'd try to pretend as if everything was perfect, but she was a horrible liar.

Eventually, they _did _show up. Ginny knew this because Hermione looked infinitely relieved that all her promises could be kept. She probably rightly guessed that _she _would be the one to pay if those idiots didn't show up in a timely manner. She seemed much more relaxed after that and actually put forth an effort into helping Ginny calm some of her own nerves.

As the afternoon carried on, the ceremony drew closer and closer. Though Ginny was upstairs, she could hear the house slowly filling up with people below. It was, she guessed, mostly family who had been recruited for last minute preparations. The normal guests would still be a couple hours off, but Ginny was starting to get antsy. She hadn't so much as _started _getting ready, and Hermione was actually starting to fade out a little bit. She was obviously tired and looked like she might just actually fall asleep on her feet any given moment. In an effort to prevent that from happening, Ginny made the decision that they needed to start preparation.

Hair and makeup was easy. Ginny didn't consider herself a very high-maintenance girl, and while she had a tiny bit of a girly streak, she never put too much effort into things like hairstyles and makeup. She didn't see why that should be any different today, even if it _was _supposed to be the most important day of her life. She didn't see why she should be someone she wasn't really. She was getting married to a man who loved her _without _the extra makeup and such, so she didn't want to be anyone else. She was surprised a little when Hermione tried to talk her into something fancier, considering the fact that Hermione was possibly the _least _high-maintenance person in the entire world. She seemed to have a rather surprising idea that this whole day was supposed to be some sort of fairytale, which was a little amusing considering how serious Hermione generally was and how she normally found frivolous things like this pointless.

But still, even after the relatively simple hair and light makeup, there was still the dress to deal with. The dress was beautiful. Ginny couldn't, and wouldn't, deny that. Her mum had helped her pick it out, and while it was a bit more elegant than she'd imagined, it was really like a dream come true. It helped her feel as close to a princess as she'd ever felt, and every time she looked at it, she fell a little bit more in love with it. But she was four months pregnant. Her belly was starting to round out a little bit, and clothes that fit perfectly a few weeks before were getting tighter by the day. The dress had already been loosened once, and she was holding her breath that it would fit today. She wanted it to be beautiful, and she wanted to do the dress justice by looking as good as she could in it, given her current situation, of course.

So she waited for it.

She focused instead on Hermione who was really looking beautiful. She couldn't lie and say that she wasn't a _tiny _bit resentful that Hermione looked so beautiful while she herself felt a bit like an oversized cow. It was, after all, _her _wedding day, and she was fairly certain that there was a rule somewhere that stated that the bride should be the most beautiful member of the wedding party. It depressed her a little bit, but she forgot about it when someone started knocking on her bedroom door. It was Ron, and he entered warily as if he was afraid he was going to walk in on something he shouldn't see. Ginny would have rolled her eyes, but Hermione would probably yell at her to stop messing up the mascara.

Ginny decided to vent some of her frustration to her brother, though, as he'd always been a rather excellent target for such things. "Nice of you to finally grace us with your presence," she said snidely. "I'm surprised you could force yourself out of bed long enough to show up."

Ron actually _did _roll his eyes. "Just because you're getting married doesn't mean I have to be nice to you. So shut up."

"Oh, stop it," Hermione said, exasperated as she effectively cut off Ginny's next remark. "You two can get along for one day."

"We were getting along fine before he actually showed up," Ginny said, shrugging one shoulder.

"You're never going to stop being an annoying little brat, are you?"

"Not as long as you exist probably."

Hermione looked highly annoyed, which was sort of amusing. Ron, though, tried to appease her when she started looking particularly fed up.

"You look really nice," he said in what was probably an actual sincere voice. Ginny, though, couldn't quite stomach it, and she pulled a disgusted sort of face.

"You should suck up while you can, I suppose," she said, rolling her eyes (mascara be damned). "After all, you're abandoning her and making her miserable. You should try to fit in the good where you can."

She didn't even realize she'd said anything until Ron completely ignored her and turned instead to Hermione. "You don't think that, do you?" His tone of voice changed so drastically that Ginny wondered if he even remembered she was in the room. In order to remind him, she answered on Hermione's behalf.

"Of course she does! She's going to be miserable, and it's all your fault."

Hermione looked suddenly very uncomfortable, and Ginny realized too late what she'd just done. Hermione _was _miserable, but it was a secret- a secret no one else was supposed to know. But she'd already said it, and now Ron was staring at both of them like he'd just been faced with a rather difficult world problem.

"You said you were fine with it…" he said lowly, now staring straight at Hermione who sort of looked like she wanted to burst into tears. Ginny felt awful and wished desperately that she could take it all back.

"I…" Hermione was stuttering because she had no idea how to reply. She was shit at lying and always had been. "I… I just, you know, it's a long time…"

Ron stared at her and said nothing for several long seconds. Then his eyes kind of narrowed a little bit, and he spoke in a much brasher tone. "You should have fucking told me."

That seemed to snap Hermione out of her weepy-mode, and she immediately put up her own defenses. "Fucking told you _what?" _she snapped back. Ginny decided it would probably be a good time to leave, as _any_ time Hermione started swearing was probably a good time to leave. But, of course, the door was blocked.

"You should have told me you didn't want me to go!"

Hermione rolled her eyes so far into the back of her head that they seemed in danger of disappearing. "Right," she said sarcastically. "If I had told you that, you wouldn't have gone."

"Exactly! You should have told me when I first asked you and not three damn days before I'm supposed to leave!"

"It's _four!_" she raged unnecessarily. "Learn how to count!"

He ignored that altogether and kept right on going. His voice was so loud now that he was pretty much actually screaming. "I wouldn't have agreed to this shit if you'd told me to stay!"

"Yeah, and then you would have just resented me for the next fifty years!"

"Well, better to be resentful than to _lie _like you did!"

She was well gone by now, too, and Ginny tried desperately to blend into the furniture and disappear. "I didn't _lie _to you! I was _trying _to be supportive. I don't know why, though, because who would want to support an idiot like you?!"

Although she knew she should be used to it, Ginny was still sometimes shocked at how easily Ron and Hermione fell into absolute blind rages with each other. It was so _weird _to her. She knew they loved each other, but they were just so _mean _to each other. She and Harry never fought like that. They argued occasionally, but they never had full knock-down drag outs like Ron and Hermione did. It blew her mind.

"If you think I'm such an idiot, I don't see why you give a shit whether I stay or I go!"

Ginny was fed up- she also blamed herself a bit- so she tried to step in. "It's not even that serious, just-"

"_Shut up, Ginny!" _

They said it at exactly the same time, though neither of them so much as even spared a glance at her. They were glaring so hatefully at each other that Ginny thought for certain that one of them would kill over. She wanted to smack them both, but they didn't give her the opportunity.

"If you don't know why I give a shit," Hermione took back over, shoving some hair out of her face, "then you're even stupider than I thought."

"Yeah, I'm so fucking _stupid," _he snarled. "But you know what? Fuck this."

He didn't give her the chance to reply because he turned around and stormed out of the room, slamming her bedroom door behind him. Ginny had no idea what just happened, and she couldn't understand how something so simple had turned into something so huge. She didn't say anything, mostly because she was scared to open her mouth. It didn't matter, though, because Hermione turned around and glared at her, her eyes brimming with unshed tears.

"Thanks a _lot," _she said hatefully.

"I don't even know what that was about!" Ginny shot back defensively. She felt horrible, but she didn't see what the big damn deal was. And what the hell were they doing behaving this way on her _wedding day?"_

"I told you that I didn't want him to know that!" Hermione snapped. "I didn't want him to think I had any problem with it because then he wouldn't do it, and he'd end up missing out on something he really wants! You didn't have any right to even bring it up."

"Would you just _stop?" _Ginny rolled her eyes. "This is stupid."

"It's not stupid!" Hermione looked like she wanted to hit her. "It's my _life. _I happen to actually _care _about that."

She left then before Ginny could stop her, storming out the same way Ron had. Ginny was in shock. She didn't know what was going on or how everything had blown up so quickly. She was pretty much in shock. She stood staring at the door they'd both just left through. She couldn't understand what was going on, and she probably stood there for ten straight minutes. It wasn't until she heard someone knock that she was snapped out of her trance.

Harry entered her room, looking everywhere but at her, as he was obviously trying to adhere to some old adage about not seeing the bride before the wedding. "Sorry," he muttered, still carefully avoiding her. "Is Hermione in here?"

"Come here," she said, ignoring him.

"I don't think I'm-"

"Just come here," she said again, and this time, she actually crossed over and pulled him all the way into her room. Then she wrapped both of her arms around him and forced him into hugging her. She didn't care about any stupid superstitions. She just wanted him to comfort her because she felt like absolute shit.

"What's going on?" he asked, finally hugging her back. She could feel him looking down at the top of her head as she buried it into his chest.

"They're going to ruin our wedding!" she said miserably, realizing suddenly that she really just wanted to burst into tears.

"What are you talking about?"

"Ron and Hermione!" she said, smothering her face even further into his shirt.

"Ron looks like he's about to hex someone…" Harry sounded genuinely confused, and Ginny pulled back, wiping at her eyes and, she knew, smearing her makeup everywhere. She looked up at Harry who was looking just as confused as he sounded. He also looked ridiculously concerned for her, though, and that made her heart swell just a little bit.

"I accidentally told him that Hermione didn't want him to go to the Aurors," she sniffed out, wiping her eyes again. "And then he just got _furious _and started shouting at her. So she started shouting at him. Then he stormed out. And she started shouting at _me. _And then _she _stormed out. And now I don't have a bridesmaid!"

Harry stared at her, obviously trying to take in everything she said and make sense of it. She said it all very quickly, and she knew that she wasn't really being too coherent. Still, though, Harry seemed to understand.

"So that's all it is?"

It wasn't the reaction she was looking for, and she felt her eyes tearing up. She didn't even know what there was to cry about, but she felt like she was about to have a nervous breakdown. "I don't have a _bridesmaid!" _she said hysterically. "And no one else can fit her dress because she's too damn skinny!"

She could tell he probably wanted to laugh, but he didn't. Instead, he just placed two hands on her shoulders and forced her to look at him. "It'll be fine," he promised. "They're just fighting."

"They're not just fighting," she said miserably. "They want to _kill _each other. They _both _want to kill me. They probably won't even _come _to the wedding!"

But Harry just shook his head. "They fight, okay? It's what they do. Just leave it alone, and they'll work it out. I promise."

"The wedding is _now!" _She felt like she was about to hyperventilate, but he just lifted one hand to smooth down her hair.

"There's still a little while."

"I can't believe this is happening."

"It'll be fine," he assured her. "I'll find them, okay? Everything will be fine."

She felt very in love with him in that moment, and the way he was looking at her really made her forget that she was supposed to be freaking out over the possibility of a ruined wedding. It made her remember exactly why she was getting married in the first place and how it didn't really have too much to do with anyone else besides the two people currently in the room. Or three if she was counting the baby. That was her family now- that's what it was going to be for the rest of her life. She hadn't given much thought to it before, as everything was pretty much just a hectic mess in trying to prepare for the wedding. She hadn't really stopped to think about what was really important, and how she was going to have a family of her own.

It sort of took her breath away.

It calmed her at the very least, and she nodded gratefully as he once again promised to find Ron and Hermione and make sure everything was okay. "And you look beautiful, by the way," he said quietly. "I can't wait to see you in that dress."

She knew that she didn't look beautiful. Her hair was coming out of the few pins that were holding it back, and she'd done a fantastic job of messing up her makeup. She looked more hideous than beautiful, but she couldn't help smiling thankfully at him.

"I love you," she said seriously. "You know that, right?"

He smiled back and nodded, leaning down to kiss her quickly against the lips. "I'll send your bridesmaid back," he swore. "And then I'll marry you."

"I can't wait."

And for the first time, it was really the truth.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: More wedding to come!


	20. First of Forever

**BACK TO THE BEGINNING**

**Chapter 20**

**FIRST OF FOREVER**

* * *

He found Hermione first.

She was locked in the bathroom off the third landing, but Harry knew she was inside because he could hear her crying. She had a very distinctive cry, and he'd spent enough time around her growing up to be able to recognize it easily. He wasn't too shocked to find her crying, nor was he too nervous about it. Hermione was one of the few people in the world who he was actually _comfortable _with comforting. Crying girls would freak him out in normal circumstances- he couldn't even handle Ginny that well when she cried- but Hermione was, and always had been, a very emotional person. She wasn't very good at hiding her emotions, either, and he'd gotten extremely used to seeing her cry in all the years he'd spent with her.

He wasn't surprised when she didn't answer his initial knock, nor was he surprised when she finally snapped at him to go away when he continued knocking. He didn't listen to her, of course, and he used his wand to easily unlock and open the door. She glared at him and turned her back, wiping away the tears that were already more than obvious on her face.

"Don't you know what go away means?" she huffed, using the back of her hand to wipe furiously at the tears.

Harry ignored her. "Want to tell me what's going on?"

"Yeah," she snapped hatefully. "You're about to marry into a family full of crazy people!"

"Why is Ginny in her room crying her eyes out?"

"Maybe she feels bad for having such a big fucking mouth? I don't know!"

Hermione was to the point of using adjectives like _fucking, _so it was possibly worse than he'd originally thought. Still…

"You're mad at Ron, not Ginny."

"No, I'm mad at both of them!" she said without hesitation. "Him, because he's just an idiot, yeah. But her because she can't keep her damn mouth closed! This whole thing is her fault!"

He thought carefully about how to word the next part. He'd spent enough time around Hermione to know how easily angered she was. She was already furious with both his best man and his bride, so if she snapped on him as well, there actually _was _a very high possibility that she would just leave and ruin the entire wedding.

"Why didn't you just tell Ron you didn't want him to go?" He spoke slowly, softly, and carefully. He tried to ask the question in the most non-abrasive way possible. He supposed it at least partially worked because she didn't whip out her wand and hex him. However, she looked at him with eyes that very clearly said she wanted to throttle him.

"You _know _him, Harry," she said huffily. "If I told him not to go, he'd stay home and ruin his one chance at doing something he actually wants to do!"

"But he'd be staying home for _you," _he said, trying desperately to speak some sort of logic. "Because you're more important to him than a job."

But Hermione shook her head firmly. "I'm not going to stop him from doing something he's always wanted to do. I don't want us to be forty years old and him still resenting me for something that happened twenty years before! I don't want him to think he didn't go after _his _dreams because of _me._ Those kinds of relationships don't work out."

Hermione was very smart. She'd always been very smart. Sometimes he was still surprised, though, at how completely _logical _her brain was. He didn't think further than tomorrow normally, so it was strange to hear her predicting their futures at forty. Still, though, he thought she was a little bit dramatic. People didn't make it to forty and then let their relationships be ruined by something that happened two decades before. That wasn't practical, and he didn't believe it would ever really happen. Still, he wasn't going to piss her off even more by telling her that she was being ridiculous.

"Well, you know why he got so upset, don't you?" He had to tread carefully here, or else he was likely to find himself in Ginny's position. Hermione, though, just looked at him questioningly. "He doesn't want to leave you, either," he finally answered his own question. "He's dreading it, and that's the part that's got him scared shitless."

She didn't say anything. She just crossed her arms and looked away from his eyes and over his shoulder. It was the position she often deferred to when someone was succeeding in proving her wrong. She didn't like to admit defeat, so she normally just shut up. He took that as his chance to move ahead.

"Ginny's really upset. She thinks you don't want to be in the wedding anymore…"

"I don't know why she just can't keep her mouth shut," she said quickly, stealing the moment to fall back into a tangent.

Truthfully, he didn't know the answer to that. Ginny _did _have a problem with saying things she shouldn't say, and she certainly wasn't the best secret keeper. Still, though, he loved her. She was having his baby, and this was their _wedding _day. He needed to fix this and make it as perfect as possible for her.

"I'm sorry," he said seriously, taking it upon himself to apologize. "She gets excited sometimes and says things she shouldn't… But _please _don't make her anymore upset than she already is. This is a really important day for her… For _us. _Please just cut her some slack."

Hermione looked at him very strangely, and he thought he could see tears welling up once again, though this time, he wasn't sure they were tears of anger or frustration. They looked more like tears of sentiment. She chewed slightly on her lower lip, and he was almost positive that he had her.

And then Ron showed up.

Harry gave up at that point, thinking that things could only get worse. Ron had a very determined and hard sort of look to his face, and he completely ignored Harry as he stormed straight past him and across the bathroom to where Hermione was standing.

"I need to talk to you," he told her sharply, not giving any notice whatsoever to anything else.

When Harry had originally seen him several minutes before, he'd been furious and was slamming things around like a madman. He hadn't given any indication at all that he was going to calm down at any point in the near future, so Harry had left him alone and gone off in search of Hermione. He knew that she would either A) be the cause of Ron's bad mood, or B) be able to get him out of it. He'd learned quickly that the correct answer was A, and he was a little bit wary to see how things were going to turn out now.

She locked up her arms again and looked at him defiantly. "I don't want to talk to you."

"I don't care." He ignored the look of hatred she threw at him and just kept right on going. "You should have told me how you felt. Not saying is the same as lying."

"No, it's-"

"But it doesn't matter," he interrupted her. "Because I just want you to know that I don't want to go, either. But this is going to be good for us. And that's why I'm doing it."

"You shouldn't be so mean to me."

"I know. And I'm sorry." Harry was surprised by that one- as normal as their fighting was, he'd missed the part where they started apologizing to each other. Ron, of course, was still seemingly unaware that he was even in the room, and went right on with his explanation. "But I need to do this because we deserve to not struggle for once. And someday when we have kids, they're going to deserve nice things. And this is important. Because _we _deserve this."

Harry knew it was a lost cause. Hermione was gone after that, and he sort of wanted to vomit when she got _that _look on her face. He knew that she, too, was no longer paying attention to the fact that there was another person in the room. In fact, he was fairly certain that he had maybe two more minutes before they started shagging right there, and he definitely was _not _going to witness that.

"_So," _he said loudly and pointedly, interrupting the _looks _they were currently exchanging. "Everything's cool now, right? You can go calm Ginny down?"

Hermione's face turned sour again. "I'm still mad at her."

"Just don't be mad at her for like three hours, okay?" He tried to look pitiful and desperate. "Please? You're her best friend. And it's her wedding."

Hermione sighed loudly, and then shook her head, almost as if she was just realizing something major. "When did we get old enough to be _married?"_

It _did _seem a bit strange. Harry himself had wondered the same thing many times in the past couple of months. It made him feel very old whenever he thought about it, but at the moment, he didn't feel very old at all. He wasn't often alone with both Ron and Hermione anymore, and whenever he was, he tended to feel much younger than he was. When the three of them were together, he sometimes found it difficult to remember that they weren't still just kids at school. He nearly laughed when he realized the irony of their current location. How many important moments in their lives had taken place in a bathroom? It almost seemed fitting.

Thinking about it made Harry extremely reminiscent, and he felt a sudden urge to share this. He was pretty sure that it was a little lame, but he couldn't make himself care too much right at that moment because he really _did _feel an enormous amount of sentiment towards those two people. They were partially the reason he was even still alive today, and he owed them everything. Plus, they were his best friends. To him, that meant more than pretty much anything else.

"It really means a lot that you guys are here with me. And Ginny," he added, feeling a little bit stupid but not really caring too much. He watched them. Their hands were lightly linked, and Ron was looking down and playing with Hermione's fingers. She seemed so normalized to it that she didn't even notice. Harry was used to that- used to seeing them together. That had been their makeup for a long time now. What at one point had been three, was now two plus one. But he was okay with that. If anyone deserved to be happy, he figured it was them, and even if it _did _leave him as a bit of an outsider, they were still a three deep down.

And that was something that would never change.

They didn't make a big deal about it, probably because they both realized it was sappy and, therefore, potentially embarrassing. Hermione hugged him and told him not to dawdle before she apparently decided it was time to return to Ginny. He didn't really blame her because both she and Ginny were looking fairly rough at the moment- not that he would have _ever _said so. But yes, the wedding ceremony was drawing much closer, and so far, none of them were even remotely ready. He was just about to tell Ron that they, too, needed to get dressed, but he got sidetracked by the look on his friend's face.

He'd known Ron long enough to know what certain faces meant. He could tell when he was nervous about something, when he was embarrassed, when he was excited, even when he was hiding something. The look on his face then, though, was one of complete and utter concentration. It was the look he got whenever he decided to focus wholeheartedly on something.

"What's up with you?" he asked, trying to keep it as casual as possible.

Ron didn't even hesitate before answering. "I want to marry her."

Harry wasn't prepared for that. He wasn't sure he could handle the idea of them being married when it seemed he'd hardly gotten used to them even dating. It wasn't that he didn't think they should be together- it was just weird. He thought about them both in the same context as a sibling. Ron was the closest thing to a brother he'd ever had, while Hermione was the closest to a sister. Therefore, the thought of them together was a bit incestuous in the back of his head. But clearly, they felt much differently about each other than either of them felt about him.

Harry wasn't _surprised _by the idea that they wanted to marry, but it didn't make things any easier. He didn't know what to say, so he just tried to be as nonchalant as possible. "That's cool…"

Ron, though, wasn't letting it go that easily. He had a very determined sort of look in his eye as he finally made full eye contact with Harry. "I think if I asked her… I think she'd say yes."

"Well… yeah," Harry finished lamely. "I'm sure she would."

"I bought her a ring."

Harry _definitely _wasn't ready for that one. Talking about marriage and actually being proactive about the preparations were two very different things. He was surprised that Ron had already made the effort of purchasing a ring, especially since up until that point, Harry had been pretty sure that both Ron _and _Hermione were more put off by the idea of marriage than they were engaged by it.

"So are you going to ask her then?" Harry didn't know what to say, so he settled with asking questions.

Ron looked slightly disgusted as he shook his head a little bit. "It's a shit ring. Complete crap."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because it's cheap and ugly and nothing at all like what she deserves." Ron glanced away and wrinkled his nose a bit defensively- a move he always pulled when he was slightly embarrassed by something. "It's all I could afford."

Harry wasn't going to touch on that issue too much. He knew well enough that Ron didn't take well to things he found charitable, so he just danced around the issue a little bit and spoke as honestly as possible. "You know Hermione doesn't care about anything like that." And it was true. Hermione was one of the _least _materialistic people he'd ever known in his whole life. Ron could probably propose with _no _ring, and she'd still say yes.

Ron, though, was extremely stubborn. _"I _care. I want her to have everything she deserves, and that ring is nothing close. She deserves _everything. _You have no idea how much."

Harry had a bit of an idea. He loved Hermione, and he thought she should have the best of everything because she was one of the best people in the world. Still, though, he also knew that she didn't care about things like how expensive or extravagant a ring was. She was very good at looking past the surface on things and seeing inner-beauty. She would love the ring no matter what it looked like because she loved the person who gave it to her. That's just how she worked.

"I was going to propose to her before I left, but I can't do it with that ring," Ron said, cracking a couple of his knuckles. "I'm going to send it to your flat later. I mean, I know you're going on your wedding trip, but when you're back, just put it some place safe. Just in case. I'm going to try to get her something better, though, because I want her to have the best of everything."

"You really love her, don't you?"

Ron didn't even blush. He just nodded sincerely. "I think she's probably the reason I was born."

Harry wasn't expecting that. He'd never heard Ron say something so prolific and, well, _feminine _in his entire life. But even though it made him fairly uncomfortable, Harry couldn't help but be impressed by the complete honesty and openness of the statement. It made him think, and he wondered briefly if Ginny would ever say something like that about him. He sort of doubted it, but he didn't necessarily think that was a horrible thing. It didn't mean that what he and Ginny had together meant anything less, just that it was _different. _It made him more certain than ever, though, that his best friends were going to be together forever one way or another. They'd probably always been destined for each other. Harry was just the connection that linked them for the first few years…

Now, though, he was the solitaire in the two plus one equation.

The rest of the afternoon passed quickly. He and Ron got ready fairly easily and had to endure what seemed to be a never-ending parade of brothers and friends and other well-wishers. They all wanted to wish him luck, but Harry tired of the sentiments rather quickly. He was actually glad when it was time to go downstairs because it meant that less people could corner him for long periods of time. By that point, he was getting excited, and he was growing more and more anxious of the impending nuptials. He felt and extreme urge to see Ginny in her wedding dress, and even though he knew patience was a virtue, he was frustrated that he couldn't spot her downstairs in the crowd of gatherers.

Most people were already seated or milling in the backyard. The downstairs of the house was reserved for what Harry considered to be close family. While he was excited, though, he was also extremely nervous, and he very nearly vomited all over his soon-to-be father-in-law's shoes as he chatted mindlessly with him. He got the feeling that Mr. Weasley (_Arthur_, he now insisted upon being called) wanted very much to threaten him with physical violence should he ever hurt his daughter, but somehow he restrained himself. He spoke instead about how beautiful the weather was outside. The blue sky, however, did very little to calm the rumblings in his stomach.

Though Ginny was nowhere to be seen, Hermione was dressed and downstairs fairly early. Harry spotted her first in the kitchen where she was bent down scolding both Teddy and Victoire. Harry had no idea what they might have done, but Hermione seemed extremely cross and was being very stern with them. Neither of those kids were normally very receptive to scoldings, but they both seemed rather scared of Hermione and were standing very quietly and seriously as she lectured them. She seemed to sense Harry staring, and she glanced over her shoulder, giving him a quick smile a wink before turning back to the kids. She looked very pretty in her dress, and her hair and makeup both looked extremely soft and elegant. Seeing her only made him more anxious for Ginny, though, and he spent the next half hour trying not to watch the clock.

And then finally it was time.

Harry took his spot at the front of the aisle. He was surprised, really, to see just how many people had shown up for his wedding. He wasn't even aware that they'd _invited _that many people, and he didn't recognize half of them. Everyone that was important to him was there, though, and he could look out into the seats and see all of his friends. It made him feel nice that they'd all come to support him. It almost helped to calm his nerves- but not quite. Ron was standing beside him, and he smirked a little bit when Harry glanced over. He was quickly distracted, though, when the wedding music began and Hermione appeared. Harry thought it was impossible, but Ron looked even more terrified, or maybe mesmerized, than he himself was. He didn't take his eyes off of Hermione the whole time, and Harry thought briefly that they might need to call medical personnel. Hermione was beaming, looking completely beautiful and completely past whatever earlier argument she and Ginny had been into. She made her way down the aisle flawlessly, and winked once more as she made it to the very front, smiling at both him and Ron as she took her place across from them.

Victoire and Teddy were next, and they both looked extremely nervous as they slowly made their way down the aisle. Vic took a few handfuls of flowers and flung them at a couple of unsuspecting guests, but about a quarter of the way down, she turned the basket upside down and dumped its entire contents onto the ground before crossing her arms stubbornly and glaring at the crowd. Harry wasn't surprised to see Fleur looking as though she were going to kill someone, and he wondered what wedding etiquette said about murdering underage wedding attendants in front of the guests. He didn't have to worry long, though, because Teddy, who had got a bit in front of her, backtracked and very nicely took her hand before leading her the rest of the way down the aisle. Everyone in the crowd seemed to think this was simply adorable, and cameras flashed from every direction, which, of course, cheered Vic up considerably and turned her frown into a very flashy grin.

And then there was Ginny.

She was with her dad, but Harry barely noticed his existence. He felt like maybe his eyes were permanently fixed on Ginny, and he couldn't even take notice of anything or anyone else in the vicinity. She looked even more beautiful than he imagined, which was quite a feat because he'd already known she was going to be gorgeous. But she was just unbelievable. He'd always heard the old saying "took my breath away," but he'd never fully understood it until that exact second. When his breath caught in his throat, he thought briefly that part of it was nerves and that part of it was just completely her.

She looked terrified, which was unusual because she was never scared of anything. She wasn't shy, and she wasn't a nervous person. But she had a look on her face that was a mix of terror and excitement. She caught his gaze and raised her eyebrows questioningly. He didn't know what the question was, but it seemed to calm them both. And he watched as her smile changed to mirror his own.

In the next hours, days, and even years, he wouldn't remember much about what happened in the following few minutes. The ceremony seemed to speed by, and he went through the whole thing in a daze. He wasn't sure how either of them said anything coherent that made any sense, but he supposed they must have, as he did hear the announcement that they were now husband and wife. Hearing it out loud like that made him dizzy and overwhelmed all at once.

And when he kissed her for the first time after that, he couldn't believe how perfect it felt.

And he knew that this was the start of _everything._

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading!!


	21. Wasted Weather

**BACK TO THE BEGINNING**

**Chapter 21**

**WASTED WEATHER**

* * *

Hermione was not sure if she'd ever get used to London rain.

She was British by birth and had spent her entire life in various places around England and Scotland. Growing up, though, London was "the city," and she'd never spent more than a week straight there. She'd always liked it, of course, but it was a place that her parents took her for clothes shopping and, sometimes, for a particularly nice dinner. Occasionally, they'd spend a few nights there, but she didn't actually call London her home until after she'd left school for good. That was five years ago.

London rain wasn't the same as other rain. England itself was little more than a year-round monsoon, but while rain on the English countryside was somewhat peaceful and calming, rain in London was abrasive and loud and angry- much like the city itself. It pounded against the windows furiously and always seemed to arrive straight on. She attributed this to the mass of buildings crowding one area. It was the same reason she believed that the wind in London literally blew in every direction. It was impossible to turn away from the wind there because it would simply bounce off another building and smack you straight in the face. The same was true with the rain, and she hated waking up to the sound of it pounding down against the window pane.

On Wednesday morning, though, she found it rather appropriate.

She was glad to hear the all too familiar rain when she came into consciousness because her first thought was of how horrible the day was going to be. The ugly rain made her feel a bit better because at least it fit her mood. She had a feeling that she would be highly pissed off if the sun was shining brightly and mocking her. At least the weather was on her side. Even if everything else was total shit.

Ron was still sleeping heavily- he didn't sleep any other way. She glanced past him at the bedside clock as she sat up. It was already a quarter past nine. He was supposed to be ready and _at _the recruiting location by eleven. She was off work for the day, but she hadn't meant to sleep in. In fact, she'd meant to wake up early in order to have plenty of time, but it hadn't worked out that way. They'd been up late the night before, and she could tell that her body was resenting her for waking up even _this _early.

He didn't even flinch as she sat up and stretched her arms over her head. She felt tight and tired all over, and she could hear the bones in her neck pop as she twisted her head from side to side. More than anything, she wanted to lie back down, wrap both arms around the still sleeping form beside her, and fall straight back into a deep slumber.

But that couldn't happen.

As gently as possible, she reached out carefully pushed some fringe away from Ron's forehead before leaning down and brushing her lips against his cheek. His face was warm, and she could feel his eyes open without even looking. When she _did _look, she saw him staring up at her in that familiar early-morning confusion (never mind that it certainly wasn't early morning).

"Hi," she said quietly, sitting up just a bit. She tried to force a smile, but the effort literally seemed to hurt. "It's after nine."

He shook his head, as if doing so would make the fact not true, and then he reached for her shoulder and pulled her toward him. She didn't fight it, and she closed her eyes to the feel of his arms wrapping her back up. The rest of him was warm as well, and she focused on that instead of the now pounding sound of rain hitting their bedroom window.

"You need to get ready," she whispered into his neck, but she made no effort whatsoever to remove herself from her current position.

He ignored her and, instead, slid both arms down her back and pulled her even closer. She did her best to ignore the immediate feeling of desperation that was building from somewhere deep inside her. It was silly really, considering his hands hadn't yet reached anywhere that might be considered erogenous. Still, she couldn't deny the thoughts and matching feelings that taunted her. She'd, so far, tried to ignore the quickly approaching end to her sex life because she felt like dwelling on something as superficial as that would make her selfish and unreasonable. Also, it made her feel a bit like a tart.

In reality, she didn't see herself that way. She saw herself as someone who was, for the most part, reserved and collected. She knew her own faults better than anyone, and she knew that she could be extremely grating and uptight about various issues. Still, she'd also been raised in a very liberal, if _controlled, _household, and she'd been taught to empower herself and to be rather forward-thinking. She wasn't a very shy person, and she was never very good at keeping her mouth closed. When it came to sex, though, things were a bit different. She could talk about _other _people's sex lives, but when it came to her own impulses, she was rather tight-lipped about it.

It wasn't that she was a prude, she just didn't see the point in discussing it with people who had nothing to do with it. If other people wanted to talk about their own lives, that was their business. She just normally chose not to participate. Still, it was difficult to ignore the fact that she was about to spend the next two months alone. She was sure that was not going to be _easy, _and she couldn't say that she was looking forward to it. But she wasn't going to dwell on _that. _Out of all the things to dread about the next two months, a lack of sex seemed to be silly and pointless. So she chose to pretend like it wasn't important to her. It made things easier.

But it also made her very eager to get in what she could while she still had the chance.

"I don't want to go." He was mumbling, and his words sounded muffled, either by the pillow or by her hair. It was the way he often sounded when he'd just woken up. It usually annoyed her, but sometimes, like right now, it just made her feel more in love. And she wanted to agree with him and tell him not to go.

But that wasn't possible.

"You're going to be late."

He responded to her observation by kissing her. She didn't bother trying to dodge it, and she let herself fall straight into it. Truthfully, it was what she wanted more than anything else, and if they missed the eleven o'clock deadline, she wasn't going to be terribly upset. She knew it was horribly selfish of her, but she couldn't make herself care too much right at that moment. She wanted to take in every second of it and hold it as a memory to get her through the next two months. It was the only choice she had. So she let herself get lost in every kiss and touch and whispered word until, finally, they couldn't push it off any longer.

He had to go.

He'd packed already, and she had checked his bags twice to make sure he didn't forget anything. He told her she was being silly, but it made her feel needed. She liked looking after him and doing little things like that even if she _did _have a tendency to complain about his lack of independence and maturity. Secretly, she enjoyed it. She didn't need to worry, though, as he had everything he was going to need. She didn't leave his side the whole time he got ready that morning, and when it was finally time for him to leave, she thought she might burst into tears.

The feeling of dread settled over her even more heavily, but she did her best to put on the bravest face possible. Meanwhile, Ron looked more reluctant than he ever had about anything in his entire life. And that included the summer when they were fifteen and the twins "hired" him as an official product tester in exchange for ten galleons a week. The memory made her smile as she remembered the horrible side-effects that some of those early product models came with. She'd broken the underage magic rule about twenty times that summer fixing various injuries and unwanted excrements that started to ail him. If it wasn't for the secrecy and protection of Grimmauld Place, she'd probably have been arrested. It kind of would have been worth it, though, as that summer was the first time he ever actually started being nice to her.

"What's so funny?" he asked as they stood facing each other in the hallway outside their sitting room.

She just shook her head and reached up to fix the collar on his shirt. "Be careful," she told him with only half fake sternness. "If you go off and get killed, I'm going to sue the whole Ministry."

"The whole Ministry?" He raised his eyebrows in amusement. "Even the Minister?"

"Well," she pretended to think, "I do like Kingsley… So I might just wait for the next one to take office."

"You never know. The next one might be _you."_

She snorted and rolled her eyes. "Yeah, right."

"It could happen."

She just shook her head and finished with his collar. "You have really high aspirations for me."

"The highest." He grinned at her, and she tried to roll her eyes again but ended up laughing instead.

"Well," she said firmly, "the Ministry is lucky I work there at all. If it wasn't for Kingsley, I'd be as far away as possible. So I don't really foresee myself with any desire to run the place."

"Yeah, but you've always been pretty shit at Divination."

She scoffed in disbelief and tried very hard to hide her amusement. "That is a horrible thing to say to someone who you're supposed to care about."

"It's the only thing in the world you don't do well. Let me get in the jabs where I can please?"

It was impossible to hide her amusement (and flattery) after that, so she changed the subject back to something more important. "Be _careful."_

He smiled at her but nodded nonetheless. "I promise if I was going to get hurt, it would have already happened. So you don't have to worry."

She figured he was probably right. Sometimes it still amazed her that she and both Ron and Harry had all made it through the whole war alive. When she was eighteen years old, she honestly thought she'd never see nineteen. If she _did _make it to nineteen, she was positive that it was going to be without one or both of her best friends. It didn't seem possible at the time that they would all make it through okay. But now she was twenty-four, and they were all still very much alive and well. And the fears they had of dying in an overnight attack were replaced with concerns about jobs and money and now even marriage and babies. It seemed very strange that things could have come so far in what seemed like so little time.

"Just humor me, okay?" she asked, raising her eyes up to his.

And he nodded, placing both hands on her shoulders as she looked up at him. "I will be careful," he told her seriously. "And I'll write every day so you won't worry."

"You don't have to write _every _day. Just when you can…" She hoped it was every day.

"You have to write me, too," he said. "This is a two-way street, you know?"

"I'm sure I can manage a few letters." She forced a smile to show that she was teasing, but the effort seemed to physically pain her.

"I need to go."

He made no effort to move, and she was too scared to look at her watch. She knew he was right, though. He had to go. It was time, but she just wanted one more minute. She tried her best to hide her feelings, but the attempt made tears spring to her eyes. She blinked them back, but doing so only seemed to create more.

"Don't cry," he whispered quietly. _"Please."_

She did her best to stop herself, and she was grateful when he wrapped her up in a tight hug. She circled both her arms around him and pressed her face tightly into his chest, breathing in and trying to commit the all too familiar scent to memory. She loved hugging him like this because she liked how small she felt beside him. It made her feel vulnerable and protected all at once. And she didn't want to let go.

Eventually, though, she had no choice. He pulled back as gently as possible, putting both of his hands back on her shoulders as he leaned down to kiss her.

"I love you," he said seriously, and she knew without a doubt that he was being honest. She never doubted him when he told her he loved her. Even with the amount of fighting they were prone to, she never doubted him and never doubted his feelings. He wasn't a liar. Especially not where she was concerned.

"I hate this," she said, sighing into his neck as she let her forehead fall against him. He moved one hand to slide over her head and then down into her curls.

"Two months," he said. "It won't be so bad."

He was only saying that to make her feel better. She could hear in his voice that he was dreading it as much as she was. That fact made her heart swell a little bit.

"I love you." She lifted her head and smiled before reaching up to kiss him again. It was the last kiss she'd get for a long time, and she wanted to make it count. He was apparently on the same page as her, and she had a feeling that if they were keeping score, that particular kiss would certainly rank in their top five somewhere.

They were both a bit breathless when they pulled away, and he squeezed her hand before leaning in for one more quick kiss. He didn't say goodbye before he Disapparated, and she was sort of thankful for it. She hated saying goodbye because it seemed so final. She stood staring at the spot he'd just left for several minutes, trying to work out in her head how she was possibly going to survive the next two months. The tears came back, but she didn't even try to stop them this time. She let them fall, and she felt sorry for herself without shame for a good hour before she finally decided to get dressed and do something to take her mind off of how much her life sucked.

It was fitting, she figured, that Harry and Ginny would be out of the country when she needed them most. They were her best friends, and she hated them a little bit for both leaving at the same time. Of course, she knew rationally that they had no choice but to leave at the same time, as a wedding trip alone would be pretty pointless. Still, it made her feel better to think of them as selfish bastards for the time being.

She went through the rest of her friends in her head. Truthfully, there weren't that many people she called friends. Most of the people she considered friends were related to Ron either by blood or by marriage. There were a few other people, but even as she ticked them off one by one, she knew they were all either at work or otherwise detained. So, with no friends to turn to, she went to the next best thing. Her mum.

It was a Wednesday, which meant that her mum was actually working in London. Every Wednesday and Friday, her parents alternated out and worked adjunct at a dental practice in London. Their own dental practice was busy enough, but they'd been contracted out for two days a week to the London practice for as long as Hermione could remember. But while she'd often been a fixture at their own practice, she'd never really made a habit of visiting the one in London. She knew where it was, though, and she figured that today was as good a day as any to make her first visit.

She could have Apparated, but there was something inside her that seemed to be craving the wet chill of the air and the cold stink of public transportation. She did that sometimes- ride trains when she could arrive much easier by magic. There was something calming in it, and today, that was exactly what she needed. She got dressed and made her way to the closest Underground station, fighting her way through the lunch hour crowd of people who were rushing to run various errands. She took a free newspaper from one of the vendors and was lucky enough to find a seat on the train between a rather fat man and a boy of maybe fourteen who was wearing both his jeans and his hat too low. She luckily didn't have to make any connects, and she spent the short journey reading about a crime spree on Green Street and how the locals were furious that law enforcement was spending more time writing traffic violations than catching the criminals that were "terrorizing" them.

It was actually _pouring _the rain down by the time she reached her destination, and when she stepped out of the station, she was forced immediately to pull her jacket round her, despite the fact that it was mid-July. Luckily, the dental practice was only two streets up, so she made it there quickly, though she was already quite soaked. The waiting area was empty when she pushed open the door, and the receptionist looked up at her with a half-bored sort of stare.

"Um, is Dr. Granger in?" Hermione asked, feeling slightly nervous, though she had absolutely no idea why.

"Have you got an appointment?"

"I'm her daughter. She isn't expecting me." She didn't know why she added the last part.

The receptionist didn't seem to care and seemed more concerned with the fact that she actually had to move out of her chair than anything else. She disappeared into the back, and Hermione glanced around at the empty waiting area. She wondered if it was always this empty or if it was simply a fluke. She shuddered a little bit as she glanced a giant poster of an open mouth full of rotted teeth and bleeding gums.

"Hermione!" She startled a little when she heard her name, and she turned around to see her mum coming through the door dressed in her familiar white coat. She smiled as her mum hugged her. "What are you doing here? I didn't expect you."

Hermione shrugged. "I just thought I'd check if you were busy. I thought we might have lunch if you're not."

"Of course, sweetheart," her mum said happily, giving her another quick squeeze. "Just give me one second to get my things."

She disappeared into the back again, and Hermione tried to remember the last time she and her mum had gone to lunch together. She couldn't remember the last time they'd gone _alone, _as they were usually accompanied by Ron and her dad. But actually going to lunch with her parents at all was a bit of a rarity. She saw the Weasleys much more often than she saw her own parents, which was something she'd long felt guilty over. But her parents never complained or brought it up. They never made underhanded comments to try and guilt her into spending more time with them, which she both appreciated and resented a little bit.

"Where do you want to go?" Her mum came hurrying back out pulling on her own jacket.

"I don't care."

"There's a great Italian place right around the corner from here." Hermione followed her mum as she pushed open the door and spread an umbrella. "We can go there if you want. My treat."

Hermione forced a smile and nodded as she let her mum pull her under the umbrella. The restaurant was literally just around the corner, so there wasn't much time for small talk, but as they slid into a booth, her mum finally said, "You don't have to work today?"

"I took the day off."

"Did Ron leave already?"

Hermione's eyes burned as she forced a nod. She tried to put on her most neutral face, but her mother was just that- her mother. Obviously she could tell when she was faking emotion or hiding something.

"It won't be so bad." Her mother sounded no more convincing than Ron had when he made the same declaration. "It'll be over before you know it."

They were interrupted as a waitress showed up to take their orders. Hermione honestly wasn't very hungry, but she ordered some pasta just to keep her mum quiet. If she didn't eat, she would hear a lecture about how she was too thin. That was the one thing her mum had a tendency to nag about. Hermione didn't personally think she was too thin at all, but apparently her mother thought she must be borderline anorexic the way she carried on about it.

"It just seems like a really long time," she said quietly once they were alone again. "I'm not used to that…"

And it was true. Save the months she'd gone off to finish her last year of school, they'd never really been separated at all. They certainly hadn't spent any time apart in the last several years. So it was hard to imagine being away from him for what seemed like an awfully long time.

"It'll be okay." Her mum smiled sympathetically, and Hermione wondered how much more pathetic she could make herself sound. She heard how ridiculous it was in her own ears, but she couldn't do anything about it. She couldn't stop herself, either, so she came right out with it.

"I thought he was going to propose."

She didn't look up when she said it because saying it out loud was even more difficult than thinking it. She didn't want to see the look on her mother's face, but she could hear the confusion in her response.

"Did you?"

It was a stupid question, but Hermione supposed she couldn't much blame her. What else was she supposed to say when her daughter just said something as ridiculous as that. It was so idiotic, and Hermione wished she could put the words back in. But, of course, she couldn't.

"I just thought…" Her voice dropped off as she tried to get her thoughts together. "I thought after the wedding that he would ask me… I mean, he kept… He kept saying things."

"What kind of things?"

Hermione tried not to feel too horrible as she remembered. "That he wished it was us… That sort of thing."

It was the truth, too. Granted, he'd been fairly drunk, but Hermione had been plenty sober enough to both hear and remember all the things he kept whispering to her as they danced and snuck away. He told her over and over again how much he loved her and how he wished that it was _their _wedding. And he told her several times that he couldn't wait to marry her. It wasn't as if it was the first time he'd ever mentioned marriage, but there'd been something different in his tone that really made her believe that he was ready to actually ask her.

But obviously he wasn't.

"Well, he certainly seemed smitten enough at the wedding," her mum interjected, and Hermione finally looked up. "I don't think I saw you on your own for more than thirty seconds."

That was the truth, too. Ron _had _stuck extremely close to her the entire night- even more so than usual. She hadn't minded at all, though, and hearing all those things had thrilled her and excited her. But what did it even matter if it was apparently all just drunk talk?

"Are you in a hurry to get married?" her mum asked carefully, and Hermione sighed to herself.

"No," she said slowly. "Not really. I just… I guess I just don't know what we're waiting for anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"I just mean… I know that's what I want. And I know that's what _he _wants. And I don't know what the point in pushing it off really is. I mean, we already live together. Is there a point to waiting anymore?" She looked up at her mum questioningly, searching for those answers that only mothers seemed to have.

"Well, if you don't feel ready… You _are _sort of young still…"

"We're not _that _young." Hermione breathed in an uneven sigh. "I'm almost twenty-five."

"Don't remind me please." Her mum smiled at her, but Hermione couldn't even force one back in return.

"Ginny's not even twenty-three yet."

"But do you think Ginny would choose this right now if the situation were different?"

"I don't think _Harry _would," she mumbled, looking back down at the table. She didn't really think Ginny would, either. She thought they'd probably _eventually _end up there, but she couldn't make herself believe that it would happen now if the baby wasn't in the equation. But still… "But they're not like us. Ron and I… You know, we're almost there anyway."

She could tell that her mum felt bad for her by the sympathetic smile she was receiving. "Just be patient, Hermione. He'll ask."

Hermione nodded, trying hard not to drown in the pity pool she was currently swimming in. It wasn't the end of the world. She knew her mum was right. She knew he would ask eventually. She didn't even know what her big rush suddenly was.

But she knew that she loved him. And she knew that she wanted some kind of promise of stability. She wanted to know that he was going to be there for the rest of her life, and she wanted to know that one day they were going to have their own family. She wanted to know that one day _they_ were going to have a daughter who she could take to lunch and give all the right boy advice to.

That was the future she wanted.

And she wanted to know it was going to happen.

* * *

A/N: I'm procrastinating work to get this out. Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it. It would be swell if you reviewed!


	22. Sleepless Nights and Sentimental Notes

**BACK TO THE BEGINNING**

**Chapter 22**

**SLEEPLESS NIGHTS AND SENTIMENTAL NOTES**

* * *

Going into it, Ron expected the first night to be the hardest.

It really wasn't, though. He was completely exhausted, so he fell straight to sleep. The second night was the same way. So were the third and the fourth. He stayed so busy all day long that he was completely beat by the time nightfall came around. He really had no trouble whatsoever falling asleep. The bed was too small, too hard, and too empty, but he was always too tired to care.

It wasn't until about two weeks into his training that he had his first really difficult night.

Hermione wrote every day without fail. He tried to write back as much as possible, but he was a lot busier than he expected. Sometimes he could only manage a line or two, but he did his best to let her know what was going on and let her know he was okay and that sort of thing. He knew she was a worrier, and he knew that the only way she'd stay calm was if she got regular updates from him. It wasn't even as if they were doing anything dangerous yet, but he knew she was concerned. So he tried his best to keep that at a minimum. Still, there weren't many times that he had an opportunity to write as much as he'd like, and there were some days that he was lucky just to be able to _read _her letters.

But one Thursday, just a couple of weeks after he arrived, he got back to his dorm even later than normal. His mail was waiting for him as usual, and he picked up her letter as he fell gracelessly onto his mattress. No one paid him any attention, as all of his roommates were all busy with their mail and getting ready for bed. He opened the seal and unfolded the letter of her familiar, perfect script. The first thing he noticed was that it was even longer than normal. Her letters were always of decent size, but this one was even longer.

It started out normal enough. She talked about the weather. Literally. She told him how hot it was and how she'd charmed the blinds to flap continuously in order to draw a cool breeze into the flat. She told him about the upstairs neighbors' extra-loud argument and then their even louder make-up sex. She let him know that the joke shop had run a three day sale that had nearly doubled their quarterly profits. It was all mildly entertaining and very normal.

But then the letter changed tones.

She started talking about work, and she began calmly enough. She told him that the beginning phases of the law writing had begun on her proposal, and she said she'd been working ten and twelve hour days regularly. She was working really hard, and he was really proud of her. He always told her that, too. He always let her know how amazing he thought she was and how awesome it was that she'd already accomplished so much. She was proud of herself, too, and he loved that about her. But there was something in the current letter that worried him.

While she'd begun with talk of the latest progress, she soon started talking about other people. Specifically the people in her department. They were giving her a lot of shit about her success, but they'd been doing that for months. It was all just jealousy, and he'd told her that time and time again. He _thought _she'd started to believe him, but in the current letter, she started going on about how awful they were being to her. He'd tried continuously to get her to ignore them, but it was no use apparently, as they were being worse than ever. She said two people had actually come up to her desk and let her know that the entire department thought she was "a self-centered, self-serving opportunist." Another person, she said, had come right out and told her that she was lucky she was friends with Harry Potter and semi-famous because if she wasn't, no one would even read her "stupid proposal," much less pass it in committee. According to the people around her, she was receiving special treatment just because she was "one of the Minister's pets."

It really pissed him off that anyone would speak about her like that. He wished somebody would say it in front of him so that he could smash their fucking face in. But no one was going to say it in front of him. For one, he wasn't there, so there were no real opportunities for anyone to say it in front of his face. For two, though, it was much easier to be a bully when there was an easy open target.

Hermione _was _an easy target. He knew that maybe better than anyone. He'd been mean to her more times than he'd like to admit. He wasn't proud of it- in fact, it was the thing he hated most about himself. But facts were facts. If there was one thing he knew, it was that you couldn't change the past, and there were plenty of moments in his past when he'd been less than nice to and _about _Hermione. It was different now. Now they were adults, and if they fought with each other (and they certainly _did), _it was mutual and evenly matched. Their arguments were not actually mean-spirited all that often, and while they occasionally _did _still say some mean things, they weren't often really meant.

But when they were kids, it was different.

He said plenty of mean things to her, and, at the time, he meant every one of them. He also said plenty of things behind her back. Sometimes they got back to her, and sometimes they didn't. She cried a lot because of him. He'd reduced her to tears more times than he liked to remember, and those were just the times he knew about. Of course, Hermione cried about lots of things- she was an emotional person. But crying about things that really mattered was a lot different from crying because an idiot boy was a prick. And that was the nicest word he could think of to describe his younger self. Looking back, he wasn't entirely sure _why _he was so awful to Hermione. The only conclusion he could really come to was just plain hormones. It was a horrible excuse, of course, but it was the best he had. At the time, he wasn't at all aware that he was going to fall in love with her one day. In fact, at eleven years old, he was pretty sure that thoughts like that were the furthest thing in the world from his mind. As far as he could tell, she was nothing more than an annoying, bossy, irritating know-it-all, and he had no problem whatsoever letting her, and everyone else for that matter, know his opinion. He went too far sometimes, and he spared her absolutely no leeway when it came to certain issues. Things that wouldn't even faze or bother him when said by other people seemed to irritate him to no end when said by her. He didn't understand it, and it took probably four or five years after that for him to finally start putting the pieces together.

_I know people don't like me, but I don't know how to change._

He read that sentence and immediately wanted to kill someone. Her letter had turned from perfectly average to somewhat desperate. She was really upset, and he wanted to cause serious pain to whoever was making her that way. He also hated himself for ever being one of the people to make her feel that way. More than anything, though, he needed to be there to take care of her and comfort her and assure her that all the dickwads who were being awful to her were just doing it out of pure jealousy and spite. He also needed to encourage her and tell her that she _did _deserve to have her proposal read and that it had nothing to do with Harry or Kingsley or anything else. They were _her _ideas, and _she _was the one who'd done every second of work on the plan. No one else could take credit for that.

He hated when she started doubting herself. He knew that most people would be surprised that she would ever doubt herself, as she had a tendency to come off as very self-assured and confident. But so much of it was just a façade. She _wasn't _all that sure of herself, and the people who really knew her knew that she suffered from several different self-esteem issues. She had a very intense need to be perfect at everything. She didn't accept less from herself, and when tasks arose that were particularly difficult for her, she often became very self-conscious and doubtful. He wasn't a psychologist of any sort, but he knew Hermione better than anyone. She'd been the subject of ridicule for a very long time when she was younger, so she did her best to overcome the flaws that other people saw in her by being the smartest and the best at everything she did. However, it was a bit of a double-edged sword because doing so created all the flaws she saw in herself.

If she wasn't perfect, Hermione felt completely worthless. She didn't deal well with second place or less than the best. It was difficult for him to deal with sometimes because he saw perfection every single time he looked at her. She was the most brilliant person he knew and the smartest person he'd ever met. She was beautiful and helpful and just the best. It was hard for him to look at her and see the flaws that she seemed to think were there. He could tell her she was the smartest person in the world, but she wouldn't believe it until she did something concrete that actually cemented that title. He could tell her that her coworkers were all just jealous cows, but she wouldn't believe that. Instead, she'd see them as having a reason to think the way they thought and act the way they acted. She doubted herself too much, and he hated it. He wished that she could look in the mirror for just one second and see what he saw in her. But she couldn't.

But Hermione knew she was smart. She worked very hard to be that way, and she would have to be, well, _dumb _to not know it. Still, she was a person who needed validation. She needed professors in school to tell her that she was smart. She needed top grades as proof of her intelligence. She needed those things to validate herself because there weren't too many other things in her life that she really felt completely confident in. But again, Hermione didn't let that show on a normal basis. Ron was more than aware that most people looked at her and probably saw a very confident, strong-willed woman, and she _was _to an extent. But there were deep set vulnerabilities under that, and there weren't too many people in the world who were allowed to see that side.

But Ron knew everything about her. They'd been friends for a really long time before they were ever anything more. And now they were _everything. _He knew her secrets. He knew her strengths and her weaknesses and every vulnerable bone in her body. He knew every mood she had and ever tone she had. Those things were so familiar to him that he could practically _hear _them in her letters. And he could tell how upset she was just by reading the words. He also knew that she was crying for at least part of her letter-writing because there were a few water-smeared words toward the end.

And he couldn't handle that.

He felt like a horrible person for leaving her alone and not being there for her while she was so upset. He felt like he was letting her down by not being there to hug her and tell her everything was alright. While he'd been exhausted and ready for bed just moments earlier, he suddenly couldn't even fathom sleeping. He immediately wrote her back, foregoing any chance of a decent shower to tell her all the things he knew she needed to hear. He wrote more that night than he had in all the other nights combined, and he sent it off before he even thought about lying down. Not that it mattered, of course. He didn't sleep well that night at all. He worried about Hermione all night long and hated himself for leaving her all alone. He even debated going home, but logically, he knew that he couldn't just _leave. _That wouldn't help anything, and Hermione herself wouldn't want that, either.

But that didn't help him sleep any.

He was tired and irritable the next morning as he sat down to breakfast with his new teammates. No one really seemed to notice, but that didn't surprise him. While most everyone in the training camp got along alright, there weren't too many people who seemed like good enough friends to notice things like cranky bunkmates or hurt moods. It seemed especially difficult for Ron to make new friends, as so many people in the training group seemed, not ill-intentioned exactly, but not exactly _well-_intentioned, either. Whereas Hermione was being treated _badly _because of her connection to Harry Potter, Ron was experiencing the opposite. People were being extra nice to him, though they often laced their niceties with questions about Harry or comments on certain events involving Harry. That wasn't exactly new- Ron had been judged for his relation to Harry for years. The _difference, _though, was that it was starting to get old. _Very _old.

Harry was his best friend and had been his best friend for ages. Now they were even, Ron seemed to realize out of nowhere, actually brothers. He was glad to have Harry, glad he was his friend, and even glad that his sister was married to him. But he was sick of being known solely for his relationship with Harry. He and Hermione were both fairly recognizable on their own now, but at the root of it, there was always Harry. Ron found it somewhat humorous that he had at one point been so envious of the fame Harry had. Now he found it all a bit of a bother, and while he tried not to get too annoyed by it, he couldn't remember what he'd ever found so damn appealing. People recognized him wherever he went, they knew him and knew plenty about him. But being well-known like that could be very tiring when he just wanted to be normal.

So while he didn't have people being mean to him or treating him poorly, he was also wary to accept too much niceness. Being in that situation made him very thankful for the friends he had and the ones who he knew were true. He didn't mind making acquaintances with other people, but in situations like his current one, he was especially careful to keep his guard up. Needless to say, it made making new friends rather difficult.

The closest thing he'd found in his training class was a woman named Sandra. He was related to her somehow, distantly- she was something like Audrey's grandmother's cousin's niece or something. He didn't know. He just knew there was some sort of connection there- albeit a small connection. Sandra was a few years older than him, but she was one of the few people who seemed unfazed by the small amount of recognition that he possessed. He didn't know her extremely well or anything, but he thought she was fairly nice. And she at least spoke to him in a somewhat normal sort of manner. So he was willing to take what he could get.

"Rough night?" She sat down across from him, and he looked up sleepily. He was extremely tired and felt like he could fall asleep right over the eggs. "You look like you haven't been to bed," she clarified when he looked at her questioningly.

"Couldn't sleep." He looked back down at his coffee and wondered briefly how much of an effect it would have if he downed it in one gulp.

"You're homesick, aren't you?"

He wouldn't term it _homesick. _For one, that phrase sounded incredibly stupid. For two, well, it just wasn't something he'd say. But he supposed it was an appropriate term, at least for how he was currently feeling. Still, he wasn't going to come right out and admit to it.

"My girlfriend is sort of having a shit time right now."

"And you feel guilty for being _here _and not _there, _right?"

He nodded, finally trying out the coffee and hoping that it would wake him up.

"Well, trust me," she went on, "I know all about the guilt."

He supposed she did. She had a two year old daughter and a husband that she'd left at home. When he'd first learned of that, he wondered what sort of mother would really choose to leave her kid behind, but then he'd realized that she was probably doing it _for _the kid. Just like he was really. The only difference was that _his _kids weren't yet born. But he could understand wanting to give them a better life than they currently had. Being away from her family for the training would pay off big time in the end.

That's what he kept telling himself.

"I'm sure your girlfriend understands why you can't be there."

He nodded and tried to force down some scrambled eggs. "She does. It's just… We kind of grew up together, so we haven't really ever been apart. So it's just weird, I guess." He felt stupid explaining the situation to someone who was pretty much a stranger. And it sort of worried him that his initial thought was that she probably already knew his story. He wondered how stuck up that made him.

"You really miss her."

It was a statement, not a question, and it was a _true _statement. He usually kept himself busy enough that he could ignore the gnawing sensation, but when he actually stopped and thought about it, his stomach literally _hurt. _He was having major second thoughts, and all he wanted to do was turn around, go home, and climb into bed with her. But he knew that wasn't possible. He knew that Hermione was okay, and he could actually hear her voice inside his head threatening him if he decided to give up on this after he already started and run away. That's not what she wanted, and it wasn't what _he _wanted, either.

"You need to write her and tell her exactly how much you miss her. Don't worry about her feeling guilty or anything like that. She needs to know how much you love her and how much you miss her."

He thought back to the letter he'd written the night before. He'd told her all those things, but it was the first time he'd gone into that much detail since he'd left home. But he didn't necessarily think that was a horrible thing, either.

"I already did," he said quietly, wondering why the hell he was even _having _this conversation, especially with someone he barely even knew. "But she's not that needy of a person."

It was half-true. Hermione may have needed validation bout a lot of things, but when it came to relationships and feelings and that sort of thing, she wasn't a typical girl. She never made him want to vomit with a bunch of sappy, sentimental shit, and she never insisted he shout his feelings for her from the rooftop. His feelings for her were one of the few things she had complete confidence in.

But Sandra just smiled. "_Every _woman needs to hear that. It doesn't have anything to do with being needy. It's just something they like hearing."

He didn't argue with her, figuring that she, as a woman, probably knew what she was talking about. He felt a bit better knowing that he'd already sent off a letter telling her how smart and perfect she was and how he loved her more than anything. He hoped that it was waiting on her when she woke up this morning. Maybe she was reading it right at that very moment.

That thought made him feel good- the thought that she was reading how much he loved her at the exact moment he was _thinking _about it. They could do this.

Two weeks down, six to go.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading!


	23. Bookish Boys

**BACK TO THE BEGINNING**

**Chapter 23**

**BOOKISH BOYS**

* * *

Ginny positively _loved _being married.

She didn't know how long the feeling would last, but seeing as how she hadn't expected to feel it at all, she wasn't going to knock it. She wasn't sure if there was one particular thing about that made her in love with the idea, but she hadn't really sat down and tried to pinpoint it, either. She was sure it was probably a culmination of things. It didn't matter, though- she was happy to just simply be enjoying herself. She'd gone in wary of what she would end up feeling and had honestly been scared that she'd be completely miserable and clueless. She wasn't sure what she expected, but in the back of her head, she'd imagined some kind of oppressed, boring, housewife type of life that would immediately encompass her the second she said, "I do."

But it wasn't like that at all.

A little over a month had passed since the wedding- thirty-six days to be exact. She and Harry had gone off to and returned from their wedding trip. It had easily been the most amazing trip of her life. Not that she had _tons _of holiday experience to draw from, as her family weren't exactly the type of people who took off for the South of France or Thailand regularly. But she'd done a good bit of traveling during her career with the Harpies, and she could easily say that she'd never seen _anything _as beautiful as the view from their hotel had been. And the warm beaches of Monaco made returning to drizzly London rather difficult.

Her flat was packed up and already rented out again. They were living in Harry's flat while the house was being prepared. As they'd done everything rather quickly, they hadn't had a chance to get everything moved in and finished before the wedding, so they were getting everything ready now. She was enjoying _that, _too. She was excited to move out of the flat and into the house. It was so much bigger, and she loved getting to decorate all of it. Harry was working a lot, so she was doing most of it on her own, but she didn't mind. He didn't care about things like wall colors and bed linens, and as she didn't have a job of her own to go to anymore, she was throwing herself headfirst into making sure the house was perfect.

She'd got a lot accomplished already. The rooms were all painted, and the furniture was all moved in. It was really down to just the finishing touches, and after that, all that was left would be moving in. She couldn't wait to start living there and waking up in the newly decorated bedroom she'd spent a full week preparing. But while she'd loved getting her own bedroom finished, the room she was most excited for was the nursery.

She'd never decorated a nursery before, and she wasn't entirely sure that she was doing it all correctly. They'd picked out a crib and set it up. The walls were a pale green color that she thought would be nice for her either a boy or a girl- though there was no doubt in her head that it was a girl. She'd picked out a beautiful dresser and had set up a matching changing table. Her mother told her all of that was really unnecessary, as babies didn't require enough clothing to fill an entire dresser and that a bed or the floor worked just as well (and were, in fact, more convenient) than a changing table. She told her all a baby really needed was a bed and a mobile of some sort of keep them occupied and hypnotized as they drifted off to sleep. Ginny did not doubt that this was true, but she also didn't care. She wanted people to fall over themselves at the adorableness of the baby's room, and she wasn't willing to spare any expense to make it happen.

That was another thing she really liked about being married…

Now, she did not consider herself a greedy or a materialistic person. But over the past few years, she'd got rather used to having money. The money she made playing Quidditch wasn't anything to laugh at, and while she was never what she would consider _rich, _she certainly wasn't poor, either. Being married, though, had given her more money than she'd ever had in her entire life. Harry had a very large amount of money in savings left over from his inheritance, and he was making pretty good money at his job as well. She'd dumped her own savings into the pot as well, and with all of it combined, they were the closest to rich that Ginny had ever been in her life.

Logically, she knew that saving money was the most important thing they could be doing right now in the early days of their marriage, especially considering that they already had a baby on the way. It was the _responsible _thing. But Ginny was willing to cut herself a break. She wasn't blowing through the money as if it was unending, and she wasn't buying completely pointless and frivolous things. She was spending a good amount of money getting the house ready, but she justified it by telling herself that it was an _investment. _Things like furniture and home décor were not things that would need to be replaced every year, so once she was finished, she wouldn't have to buy anything else for a very long time. And as far as the baby things went… well, it was her first child. Wasn't she allowed to splurge?

The nursery's furniture had been purchased and set up, but the linens and window hangings hadn't yet been chosen. Ginny had set aside an entire day for finding just the perfect décor, and she'd convinced Hermione to join her. It was a Saturday, so Hermione wasn't working, and Ginny figured that she would enjoy getting out of her flat and actually doing something for once instead of just sitting in there being lonely and feeling sorry for herself. Ron had been gone for a month, and Hermione was still acting as if she was dying of loneliness. Ginny thought it was rather dramatic and stupid actually. After all, it was just _Ron. _He was mostly just good for being annoying and being even more annoying. Ginny didn't even know what Hermione saw in him in the first place, much less why she would be so upset about being without him for a couple of months. Ginny personally thought she should be turning backflips at being rid of him, but she kept her opinion to herself, as she needed Hermione's opinion on the curtains.

They met up in Diagon Alley just outside of George's store. Ginny thought briefly about stopping in to say hello, but she decided to put it off until the end of the day. She wasn't much in the mood for George, and she _certainly _wasn't in the mood for the annoying fake well-wishes that all his shop girls would bestow on her. They didn't like her, but they were very good at being incredibly fake when it came to offering kindness. Ginny could barely stomach it on a good day, so she didn't think mixing it with pregnancy hormones would be a good idea. She would stop in later when hopefully most of them would be gone. Perhaps even George himself would be gone, and then she'd have a perfect excuse for not stopping in at all. She tried to ignore the wistful way Hermione seemed to glance at the shop, as though she were remembering "the good ole days" when times were simpler, and all she had to do to see her boyfriend was open up the double glass doors and step right in.

Ginny wanted to puke.

"I'm starving," she said, breaking the silence before things could get any grosser. "Do you want to do lunch before we go shopping?"

Hermione shrugged one shoulder listlessly, and Ginny literally had to force her eyes not to roll. She wanted to smack Hermione for being so melodramatic over something as idiotic as Ron. If it were something _important, _she'd be able to cut her a bit more slack. But it was _Ron._

Deciding just to ignore her mopey attitude altogether, Ginny made the decision for both of them. "Let's go eat." She didn't wait for affirmation, just led the way around the corner to The Leaky Cauldron. It was still early, so the pub wasn't too crowded. They were able to find a booth easily enough, and they slipped into it relatively unnoticed. Ginny was thankful for that because she was growing pretty tired of the newspapers and cameras hounding her at every given moment.

She grabbed the menu and opened it, reading over the selections despite the fact that she'd been eating here for as long as she could remember. The menu hadn't changed once in her entire life, but it was just habit to open it up and check to see if there was anything new. There never was.

"What're you getting?" she asked Hermione, peeking over the top of her menu to see that the other menu was still lying closed on the table.

"I'm not really that hungry," Hermione said quietly. "I just ate breakfast three hours ago."

Ginny snorted. She'd eaten breakfast _two _hours ago and already felt like she was going to die of hunger. The best part of pregnancy, she'd discovered, was getting to eat anything and everything you wanted without having to feel guilty. She knew she'd probably be paying for it this winter after the baby was born and she was a gigantic cow, but at the moment she couldn't really force herself to care.

Her menu hunting was interrupted, though, by the appearance of the waitress who showed up to their table happily and eagerly.

"_Hi!" _Hannah looked awfully cheery about something. She didn't even wait to be greeted back before she forced her way into the booth with them, sliding into Ginny's side and scooting her over. "So how was your trip?" she asked happily.

Hannah's bubbling happiness was contagious, and Ginny started spilling excitedly. "It was _fantastic! _It was _so _pretty, I've never seen anything like it!"

"You're so lucky." Hannah sighed loudly and shook her head. "I'd give anything to go on holiday right now."

"Well, you should definitely go there sometime. It was just _beautiful."_

"I never even saw your ring!" She grabbed Ginny's hand and held it up for inspection. The diamond rested on top of the single wedding band, and together, Ginny thought it was the most beautiful set in the world. Hannah seemed to agree because she smiled widely as she looked up and shook her head. "That's _gorgeous." _She looked at it for a few more seconds before dropping Ginny's hand and asking for something else instead. "Can I touch your belly?"

Ginny was used to that question. Or, rather, she was used to people just grabbing for her stomach- people rarely had the decency to ask. She didn't mind, though- it made her feel happy that people were interested in her baby. She leaned back as far as she could to give Hannah the access she needed for belly groping. The bump wasn't gigantic yet, but it was definitely there now. It seemed to have popped right out overnight one day, and everywhere she went now, people commented on it. Hannah cupped the tiny bump with her hand and let out a little squee. Ginny was used to _that, _too, and she herself tended to squee a bit whenever she happened to catch sight of the bump herself.

"So, do you think it's a boy or a girl?" Hannah kept one hand on Ginny's stomach as she looked up and asked the question.

"It's a girl," Ginny answered confidently at the same time Hermione shook her head and lowly said, _"It's a boy." _Ginny shot her a mean look that wasn't serious, and they smiled at each other.

"If it's a boy, it'll probably be all boring. You need to hope for a girl."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Why are you so certain he'll be boring just because he's a boy?"

"Because you know how Harry is."

She didn't mean for it to come out like _that _obviously, and the looks on the other girls' faces were almost enough to make her laugh.

"You just called your husband _boring," _Hermione said pointedly.

"You know what I mean," Ginny shrugged it off. "All serious and broody and bookish. That sort of thing."

"Bookish?" Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Did you even _meet _that man before you married him?"

Ginny raised an eyebrow of her own. "Uhh… The baby in my belly says probably."

"He's not _bookish," _Hermione said pointedly. "He hates books."

"Well, at least he's sort of smart." Ginny rolled her eyes. "Smarter than me anyway."

"Don't brag about that."

Ginny kicked her hard under the table, and they both giggled.

This seemed to draw Hannah's attention for the first time to the fact that there was someone else at the table, and she looked up sympathetically at Hermione. "Ron left, didn't he?"

Ginny wanted to bang her head against the table. The first smile she'd seen from Hermione in a month, and it was wiped away instantaneously at the mention of her stupid brother. Hermione just nodded in reply to the question, and Hannah offered a sad sort of smile.

"It won't be so bad," she said. "He'll be back before you know it."

Deciding to turn the conversation away from Ron's absence as quickly as possible, Ginny went to a bit of gossip she'd tucked away in her head. Turning around to face Hannah completely, she didn't even try to hide her smirk.

"I heard a rumor about _you."_

There was no need to expand on it because the instant flush to Hannah's cheeks tattled straightaway that she knew exactly what Ginny was referring to. Hermione did, too, and her smile came back as she watched Hannah turn bright red and duck her head. Virtually the very first thing Ginny'd heard upon returning to England was that _allegedly _Neville had left her wedding with Hannah Abbott. Hermione had been eager to tell her, though she'd also been adamant that she didn't know firsthand. But Ron had it on pretty good authority from George apparently.

"So it's true then?" she asked, and Hannah turned an even darker shade of red.

Ginny laughed out loud and shook her head. "I can't believe it."

"I told you it was true!" Hermione hissed at her, and then they both giggled as Hannah finally looked up guiltily. Hermione was momentarily distracted from her own romantic turmoil and wasted no time in trying to get to the bottom of the story. "So… Just how exactly does that happen?"

Hannah shrugged. She was embarrassed, but it was sort of cute. "I dunno… He's just… He's _nice." _Ginny didn't know what to say to that, nor apparently did Hermione. Hannah seemed concerned about their momentary silence, though, because she reached quickly for validation. "Don't you think he's nice?"

"Well, yeah," Ginny said, nodding. "He's very nice. But he's just… Neville." She didn't know what else to say.

"I know. It's weird, isn't it?" Hannah seemed to be second-guessing herself, and Ginny felt really bad. She hadn't meant it to be insulting, but she just personally couldn't wrap her head around the idea of someone actually _dating _Neville.

Hermione jumped right in to save the situation, though. "No, it's really sweet," she said honestly. "Neville is a really great guy." Ginny nodded her agreement, and Hannah seemed to relax a little bit.

"So everyone knows?"

"Everyone _guesses," _Hermione corrected her. "I don't think anyone was actually able to confirm it."

"Why didn't somebody just ask him then?"

Ginny wrinkled her forehead. "We aren't going to _ask _Neville about his sex life."

Hannah's mouth dropped open, but she didn't have the decency to deny it. Instead, she just turned red again and tried to smooth over the statement. "I meant why didn't _Harry _ask him? Or _Ron?"_

"I don't really think they talk to Neville about stuff like that…" Hermione said slowly.

"Why not? They talk to each other about it, don't they?"

Ginny looked up quickly at exactly the same moment Hermione did, and their eyes locked in horror for a few seconds before they both burst into laughter.

"I _really _hope not," Ginny said seriously, cringing at the very thought that her sex life would be discussed with her brother in any way.

"Me, too," Hermione said seriously, and she, too, seemed to be gagging a little bit at the thought.

"Oi! Are we ever going to get food in this place?" Some fat man with a horrid beard was standing up at his table glaring over Hannah who rolled her eyes and finally stood up.

"I have to go _work _now. Before I get fired." She tossed her hair primly and added, "And that bastard is getting a side of something he won't like, by the way."

Ginny laughed, and Hermione looked horrified. Hannah left then, promising to bring Ginny something good and fatty to take care of her hunger. After she'd made good on her promise and Ginny was momentarily full, she finally dragged Hermione out of the pub and down to the store they'd come in search of in the first place. They gossiped the whole way, guessing everything they could about what had happened to get Neville and Hannah together. Hermione wanted to think the best and said that perhaps she just recognized what a great person Neville was. Ginny, though, was convinced that alcohol had more than a bit part in it- at least in the initial hookup. Hermione probably thought the same thing but was simply too nice to say it out loud.

By the time they reached the baby store, the Saturday afternoon crowds were starting to show up a bit more prominently. There were several school-aged children running about as their parents struggled under the weight of new cauldrons and textbooks. It was nearly time for school to start again, and the Hogwarts crowd was certainly out in full force. It made Ginny feel a bit nostalgic for all the times that she and Hermione had come here when they were younger to get their own school things. Now they were here picking out baby bedding.

Things had _certainly _changed.

The baby shop wasn't nearly as crowded as some of the other places, and Ginny was thankful for it. The more the crowds grew, the more people noticed her. She could see them hitting each other and whispering even if people who actually had enough sense to come up and speak to her were few and far between. She knew, too, that the more people who saw her in Diagon Alley, the greater chances of the photographers showing up to capture her every move. There were some things she didn't want to share with the world and picking out her first child's bedding was one of those things.

"Mrs. Potter." A short, portly lady smiled sweetly at them as they entered the shop. "We've been expecting you, and we're here for anything you need."

Ginny was taken slightly aback by that- not so much by the fact that they were expecting her apparently (she _had, _after all, called ahead to see if they offered assistance by appointment only or by walk-in), but the part that shocked her a bit was the "Mrs. Potter." She was pretty sure it was the first time anyone had called her that, and it sounded completely strange and foreign to her ears. It also thrilled her. She _loved _the way it sounded, and she was tempted to continue asking the lady for help just so that she could hear it again. But she kept her composure and tried to appear unfazed and mature.

"Thank you," she said politely. "We'll just look for now."

Hermione seemed to know exactly what was secretly amusing Ginny so much, and the moment they were out of earshot on their own, she said, "Mrs. Potter?"

"That's my name, isn't it?" Ginny smiled widely, and Hermione rolled her eyes, fighting back what was apparently a snicker. Ginny, wanting to get even, very snidely and sweetly said, "Just think. One day, you can be Mrs. Weasley. Just like my mum."

The smirk immediately disappeared from Hermione's face. "I hate you so much sometimes," she said blandly, but Ginny just smiled innocently.

"Really you love me."

"No, really I hate you."

"That's not a very nice thing to say to a pregnant woman."

Hermione opened her mouth to retort, but their playful bickering was interrupted by the appearance of a tall, blonde woman. She looked to be a few years older than them, but it was clear that she was pregnant by the clothes that she was wearing. Her clothing also made it quite apparent that she was someone who'd only recently come into money. Ginny knew, of course, that she had absolutely no room whatsoever to talk on that front, but at least she'd made some of her money on her own. She also hadn't actively gone out _looking _for money. Just the sight of this woman, though, screamed gold-digger.

"Excuse me," she the other lady. "Are you Ginny Weasley?"

"It's Ginny _Potter," _Hermione interjected smartly, and Ginny would have smacked her had they not been in the company of a stranger. As they were, though, she just smiled and agreed.

"It is. And I am."

"I thought so!" The woman smiled. "I'm a _big _fan of yours. You're an excellent Quidditch player."

This woman had never seen a Quidditch match in her life. That was for certain. Ginny nearly burst into hysterical laughter when Hermione apparently decided the same thing.

"She is," she agreed dramatically. "I don't know _how _the Tornadoes will finish out the season without her."

Ginny could _not _look over at her because if they made eye contact, they would certainly both crack up. Instead, she struggled very hard to keep a straight face as the woman nodded serenely, apparently agreeing that the _Tornadoes _would be lost without Ginny. Which was funny, of course, as Ginny had never played for them.

And also because the season was officially over.

"I'm Katherine," the woman said, introducing herself unnecessarily.

Ginny decided to play nice and shook her hand as it was offered. "Are you expecting?" she asked, feigning interest in a question she already knew the answer to.

"Yes, in January." Katherine placed a hand over her stomach, and Ginny smiled.

"I'm due in December."

"Isn't it so exciting?"

Ginny nodded. "Is it your first?"

"It is. I haven't got a clue what I'm doing, of course, but I suppose that's normal, isn't it?"

Ginny was beginning to find the conversation incredibly mundane. Now that they'd gone from fucking with her head to actually making small talk about their upcoming arrivals, she was growing bored. She was more interested in finding the crib bedding that she'd set out for, and she could tell Hermione was as well. She was thankful then when the same woman who'd greeted them upon their arrival approached them.

"Mrs. Milton," she said kindly, "your bags are ready."

Katherine smiled at them once more. "Well, it was very nice to meet you. I do hope you find everything you need. Good luck with the little one."

Ginny played polite for a little while longer and forced a smile in return. "You, too."

When Katherine was gone, she turned straight to Hermione and started laughing. "You should be ashamed of yourself!"

Hermione just shrugged one shoulder. "She had it coming. That woman doesn't know anything about you that she didn't read in the gossip section of _The Daily Prophet."_

"Yeah, no shit."

"Lovely lady, wasn't she?"

"Lovely." Ginny rolled her eyes.

Hermione, though, just smiled evilly. "Just think. Your kids will be in school together… Maybe one day, your baby will grow up and fall madly in love with _her _baby, and then you can be in-laws!"

She was getting her back for the Mrs. Weasley comment. Clearly.

Ginny, though, wasn't having it. She shook her head firmly and reached for the first set of sample sheets, putting on her most serious face.

"My baby is a boring, brooding, bookish boy who would never, _ever _be that stupid."

And then, just for good measure, she flipped Hermione off for even having the nerve to suggest such a thing.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading!


	24. Weekend Work

**BACK TO THE BEGINNING**

**Chapter 24**

**WEEKEND WORK**

* * *

Harry was working a lot of extra long days.

In the past week alone, he'd put in over seventy hours. It was tiring to say the least, but the overtime was really helping his paycheck. It sucked, of course, that he was newly married and spending most of his time at work instead of at home with his new wife, but he didn't think Ginny minded too much. She was spending most of her time getting the new house ready and buying baby things. It was a good thing that he was allowed so much overtime because otherwise they'd probably be so far in debt they'd never recover. He didn't harp on this, though, because the few times he'd mentioned that maybe they were spending too much, she'd told him to stop worrying so much and that they had plenty of money. So he shut up.

Shutting up was the best thing to do around Ginny these days. It was just easier overall. There were certain aspects of her pregnancy that were rather pleasant- like the fact that her sex hormones were out of control crazy and didn't seem to be slowing down in the least, not to mention the fact that her boobs were absolutely _fantastic. _But beyond the sexual aspect of it all, the rest was sort of a nightmare. Her temper was very short, and if something didn't happen the way she wanted it to happen, she was downright _mean. _He wasn't going to call his wife a bitch because he was pretty sure that was an awful thing to do, but the thought did inch into his mind every now and then. When it did, though, he just looked at her chest and told himself it was well worth it. Oh, and the baby bump, too.

Still, the mental hormones that were filling his flat at the moment didn't make working extra hours too difficult. Ginny could spend the day spending money, and he could spend it earning the money. Then he could shag her at night and disappear the next morning. It wasn't what he imagined the _ideal _first months of marriage should be like, but _ideally, _people didn't spend the first months of their marriage decorating a nursery, either. After the baby was born, hopefully she would turn nicer and they could have their "honeymoon period." Of course, he was pretty sure the sex would drop off dramatically, and he wasn't sure what kind of a great honeymoon involved a screaming infant. So… maybe not.

He was tired, though. Working so much was making him literally exhausted. Still, when it was announced that volunteers were needed for a weekend at the training academy, he jumped at the opportunity. Ginny wouldn't care, and even though he'd be working, any type of traveling was at least a bit of a holiday. And he could _definitely _use a holiday. Not to mention, of course, that he would get to see Ron who was beginning to miss a _lot. _He'd never really thought about it before, but he was extremely used to seeing his best friend on a daily basis. It wasn't until that changed that he realized just how much he relied on that bit of normalcy. Things were hectic everywhere- at work and at home- and he needed a best mate to bounce those sort of things off of. Hermione was still there, of course, but while he also considered her a best friend, she was different from Ron. Not to mention, of course, that she spent ninety-five percent of her time moping around missing the same person. It was rather depressing. As it was, she was completely jealous when he told her where he would be spending the weekend. She even looked like she might burst into tears at what she obviously considered to be gross unfairness. Harry felt bad for her, but there wasn't a whole lot he could do about it.

He and three of his teammates made the journey to the training camp on a Friday afternoon. They were going to be training with the third level cohort, which meant that they wouldn't actually _be _with Ron's group. Still, he was counting on the fact that they'd at least be able to socialize with the other cohorts. He didn't much fancy the thought of training Ron anyway, as he had a good feeling that it might be very strange. So he was mostly glad that he was assigned to third levels instead of firsts.

The camp looked exactly the same as it had years before when he had attended it. It had seemed to be the most intimidating place in the world, and it still seemed the same today. It was close to dinner time, and they'd been promised all the regular meals as part of their weekend deal. They made their way to the dining hall straight away, and as they were walking that direction, Harry remembered just how disgusting the food here really was. Of course, at the time, he'd come off a year of eating berries and stewed mushrooms, so even the gross mass-prepared food of the Auror Academy seemed like culinary perfection. But now he was used to _good _food- nice restaurants and, he had to admit, Ginny was a _very _good cook. She seemed to enjoy it, too, or maybe she was just bored. He didn't know and honestly didn't care. He was benefiting either way.

The first level cohort was apparently on prep detail, though they were obviously nearly finished by the time Harry and the others arrived at the dining hall. He spotted Ron straight away and left his own group immediately to seek him out. Ron was clearly shocked to see him, apparently uninformed about the impending visit. Harry himself hadn't had a chance to fill him in, as they'd left just a few hours after finding out.

"What're you doing here?" Ron asked as he immediately hugged him. They were both obviously happy to see each other, as it'd been more than a month now. The last time they'd seen each other had been at the wedding, and that already seemed forever ago.

"We got to come help with the third levels," Harry answered, pulling back and setting his traveling bag down on the ground. "Well, they asked for volunteers."

"And you couldn't wait to get away from Ginny?" Ron raised an eyebrow and smiled, and Harry felt guilty for hesitating before answering.

"Ginny's great," he said, and Ron laughed at what apparently was a telling tone in his voice. "You know," he attempted to cover up, "just pregnant."

"You don't have to lie to me, mate," Ron sat down at one of the tables, and Harry joined him. "I know her pretty well."

This was true. Harry shrugged one shoulder, though. "It's alright." He still felt guilty, but his hesitation had nothing to do with Ginny herself. It was more to do with the unencumbered rush of hormones that were flying in every direction around her. It was enough to give a man whiplash even on a good day. He loved her, but he couldn't pretend that he wasn't glad for a break.

"Did you get moved in?" Ron glanced over his shoulder, probably to make sure that no one was giving him an evil glare down for prematurely cutting out of the prep duties. No one seemed to care, though, as everything was pretty much finished anyway.

"Almost." Harry shrugged. "I think all the furniture and everything is there, we just have to actually _move. _Gin's doing most of it."

"I'm sure she likes it that way," Ron said. "If you tried to help, she'd just go behind you and fix it."

Harry knew this to be true, so he didn't even bother. In the end, she was going to have it the way she wanted it regardless, so it was best not to even waste his time.

"Oh!" he said, his face lighting up. "All that stuff about Neville and Hannah Abbott was true!"

Ron smirked and nodded. "Yeah, I know. I can't believe they just came out and _asked _Hannah."

Obviously Hermione had filled him in on all the details. Harry agreed with him, though. He, too, was surprised that the girls had just come right out and _asked. _They knew Hannah fairly well, but she was by no means one of their best friends. Women must have been very different from men in that aspect. He'd always heard the stereotype that men were far more likely to be caught discussing sex than females were, but apparently that was just that- a stereotype. The girls seemed much more open to the subject, as he couldn't even _imagine _just going up to Neville and asking if it were true. Of course, he was more reserved than a lot of men, but it still seemed like such an out there thing to do that he couldn't imagine anyone actually doing it.

"Hannah's not bad looking," Ron went on, lifting one shoulder. "So I guess good for him."

"Yeah, but it's going to be bad if she only did it because she was drunk or something like that."

"Hermione says she seems to actually like him. I dunno. Did you talk to him at all?"

Harry shook his head. "I haven't seen him once since the wedding, I don't think."

This was unusual. Neville was a teaching assistant at Hogwarts, but during the summer, he usually hung around and was seen pretty regularly. He was much less accessible this summer, though, so perhaps that meant he was spending it shacked up with some blonde barkeep. Harry hoped so, as it was about time Neville got something good.

Ron's face changed, though, and Harry rightly predicted the next question out of his mouth. "Have you seen Hermione?"

Harry wanted to roll his eyes, but he didn't. He saw Hermione several times a day normally, and every time he saw her, she looked more and more depressed. This was due in large part, of course, to the fact that Ron was gone and she was lonely. It was also due, though, to the fact that she was having a shit time at work and was absolutely miserable. He was worried about her, of course, because she was one of his best friends, but he was also getting a little bit tired of the constant depression and moping. Still, though, he certainly wasn't about to say _that _to Ron.

Instead, he just nodded. "Yeah, I just saw her about an hour before I left."

"Is she alright?" Ron sounded very concerned, so Harry did his best to dissuade his line of thought.

"Yeah, she's fine. She's really busy."

"She's not _fine," _Ron said, eyeing Harry sharply. Apparently he was already well-aware of her current emotional state, so there was no point in denying it. "People are being mean to her."

It was almost funny. Ten years ago, Ron was _mean _to her on a daily, sometimes hourly, basis. Still, Harry had to admit, that even then, Ron was extremely defensive when it came to anyone _else _being less than nice to her. It just seemed like such a silly thing to say, though. _People are being mean to her. _They were adults. They should be able to deal with things like that and move on. But he wasn't going to say any of that, though, because Ron would punch him or hex him or do something really bad, he was sure. Instead, he said something he hoped would momentarily appease the situation.

"Well, you know, people are jealous of her."

It was the truth, too. Hermione had plenty of personality issues that certain people would consider flaws. She was a bit overbearing, and sometimes she came off too strongly. She was bossy and precise to a point. She had a way of making people feel less than intelligent, and sometimes she caused people to feel downright _stupid. _But Hermione was a good person. She rarely did those things on purpose, and Harry had come to accept the fact that she just couldn't _help _it most of the time. She was so smart that she didn't have much control over the way it came across to other people.

So there was a lot of jealousy there. People had been bullying her for years because it made them feel less inadequate around her. She was a rather easy person to pick on, as she could be reduced to tears rather quickly. From a bully's standpoint, reducing someone to tears or making them miserable was a fantastic way to get one up on the fact that they were a billion times more intelligent than you. Now Harry didn't think that the other members of her department were stupid by any means, but there were very few people who were actually on Hermione's level of intelligence. He could see where other people would be intimidated by that, especially when she was getting more accomplished and more recognition than people much older and more experienced.

"You have to take care of her," Ron said seriously, his eyes wide and honest.

Harry sighed just a little bit. "What am I supposed to do?"

"I don't know. Smash somebody's face in when they start talking shit." Ron sounded like he was honestly being serious with that. Harry didn't even bother trying not to roll his eyes that time.

"I'm pretty sure Hermione would kill me for that."

"She would just pretend to be angry," Ron said dismissively. "She likes when people take up for her."

"Maybe she likes when _you _take up for her," Harry said pointedly. "But if anyone else tried it, she'd be furious. She can take care of herself, you know."

Ron looked pissed off and like he was about to open his mouth and say something else, but Harry didn't give him a chance. Instead, he changed the subject as quickly as possible.

"So how do you like it so far? The training, I mean?"

Ron's face sort of fell just a tiny bit, and he shrugged. "It's alright, I guess."

"It gets better," Harry promised, remembering his own first few months of training. They'd been long and tiring and relatively boring. Sometimes he wished he would have put it off and waited awhile, as going straight in after the war only seemed to add to the hurriedness of everything. Sometimes he thought that if he'd just had a bit of a break that he might have got some much needed rest. He even wished occasionally that he'd gone back to school and done his Seventh Year like Hermione had. It had seemed tempting at the time, mostly because Ginny was begging him to go, and he would have done just about anything she asked as long as she kept letting him see her naked. But at the time, he'd wanted to do everything he could to somehow avenge all the people who had already sacrificed everything for him, and that wasn't going to be found at Hogwarts.

"The people here are mostly dicks," Ron said, glancing around once more, obviously making sure none of the so-called 'dicks' were eavesdropping. "You should be careful because I think half these idiots only signed up for this shit so they could meet you."

Harry raised his eyebrows and looked around. The dining hall was still rather empty, but the few people who were in there were looking over at them. It was something he was used to, but it wasn't something he loved, either. He didn't like being the center of attention, and he still got slightly creeped out when people broke their necks trying to stare at him. It was even worse in situations like this- situations where people were supposed to be his colleagues. As an Auror, he wanted to just be one of the numbers- he didn't want any sort of special treatment or placement, but it made it difficult for him to just be normal when people he worked with looked at him like some sort of hero.

"They all act like they want to be my best mate because they think it'll get them closer to you," Ron said lowly. "So I'd watch out while you're here if you don't want to get mobbed or something."

Ron's words came in handy as the weekend went on. Harry spent most of his time trying to dodge questions about his personal life and even had to turn down a few autograph seekers. He was horrified, of course, that people in his profession would ask for his autograph, and he was quite glad when the weekend was over. He didn't actually get to spend that much time with Ron, but he was glad for the bit that he did, as he figured it was good for both of them to spend time with someone who was _actually _their friend with no gimmicks. It made him look forward to the time when they would actually be working together on a daily basis- they just had to get through the rest of the year first.

When he got home Sunday evening, Ginny was waiting with dinner. She was in a good mood, which was always a plus, and he had a feeling that she was so bored that she'd cooked all afternoon, as there was far too much food for just the two of them. He didn't care, though, because her food was about a billion times better than the food at the training camp.

"I'm so glad you're home!" she said brightly, jumping up the second he arrived home and hurrying over to meet him.

He glanced at her briefly before she threw both arms around his neck and noticed that it almost seemed as if her stomach had somehow got even bigger over the three days he was gone. It seemed to do that a lot, though. It seemed like every morning, they'd wake up, and it would be protruding just a little bit more. It certainly wasn't _huge _or anything like that yet, but it was definitely there. You could definitely tell she was expecting, and the sight of it always both thrilled him and scared him a little bit.

"I missed you!" She grabbed him by the head and kissed him tightly. He was a little bit surprised, as despite the fact that she was often high on hormones, she rarely got into this sort of _I missed you _phase. He didn't mind, though, because he was actually very glad himself to be home. He'd missed her as well, and even if the short break had been well-needed, he was happy to be back in his own flat with Ginny and lots of good food.

She kissed him for several long moments, and he didn't stop her. He didn't exactly know _why _she was so eager to get to him all of a sudden, but it _was _the first time they'd been apart since the wedding- save two or three overnight missions he'd accompanied. But it was certainly the first time they'd been away from each other for an entire weekend. It didn't matter, though. He enjoyed kissing her, even if his stomach _was _rather hungry.

Finally, she pulled back, but she kept both hands clamped tightly around his neck. "Did you have fun?"

He shook his head. "It was boring."

"Did you see Ron?"

"Yeah. That was the only good part."

"Is he as annoyingly depressive as Hermione is?"

He smiled, thankful that someone else had recognized what he was seeing on a daily basis. "He may be a little bit worse."

Ginny rolled her eyes, but she pulled him back in for another kiss. He let his hands rest on her hips as she let her own play in his hair. He was positive that it was standing up even worse than usual, but he didn't care.

"Lily missed you, too," she said quietly when she pulled back just a tiny bit. He searched her eyes out, and she smiled brightly. She'd been calling the baby Lily since the moment she found out she was pregnant. She was certain it was a girl, and he thought it was nice that she wanted to call the baby after his mother. Personally, he wasn't quite as positive that the baby was a girl, but he figured there was a 50/50 chance. He didn't care either way really; he didn't know anything about babies, so he was going to be just as lost no matter what bits it ended up having.

He thought a little girl would be perfect. He imagined that she would look just like Ginny and be just beautiful. She would be sweet and precious and everything that little girls were supposed to be. A boy would be great, too, though. After all, Teddy was a boy, and that was the closest thing to experience he had when it came to kids. And boys were greatly outnumbered in the family, too, which was surprising, as Ginny had been the first girl in something like two million years. Now, though, girls were all that were being produced it seemed like. Up until Fred's birth in January, there had been nothing _but _girls born into the family. So he thought a boy might help to even things up a bit. It would also give Fred someone to play with, and the poor kid was going to need it with _that _many girls around.

"She's been kicking like crazy," Ginny said seriously, straightening up and then dipping her head to look down at her stomach as she covered it with both her hands. That was new. The baby had only recently started moving around enough to where she could feel it, but while it seemed to be kicking up a storm, it always stopped just before Harry could feel it. He still hadn't felt the kicks, and he really wanted to.

He placed one of his own hands there, and Ginny grabbed it and moved it to what was apparently prime-moving area. "Are you going to kick for Daddy?" she asked sweetly, keeping her head bent as she talked quietly to the baby.

He couldn't put into words the way he felt watching her talk to their baby. It was even more amazing hearing her refer to him as 'Daddy.' He hadn't really let himself think of it in terms of that yet, so it kind of floored him all at once. In just a few months, they were really going to have a baby- they were really going to _be _Mummy and Daddy. Whether they were ready or not.

He let himself get lost in the moment as Ginny took his hand and used it to gently shake her belly. She again tried to coax the baby into moving for him, but all he felt was quiet still. That's all he ever felt. Finally, Ginny frowned and looked up at him. "She must be asleep."

"Well, tell me if she wakes up," he said seriously, and Ginny smiled again.

"I promise." She kissed him quickly, leaving both of their hands still resting against her stomach. "She's a Quidditch player," she said a second later when she pulled back. He raised his eyebrows, and she just nodded. "I can tell from the way she's been flying around in there. She's a Chaser."

"Oh, is she?"

Ginny nodded, and they smiled at each other. He was amused by the fact that not only had she already delegated their child as a Quidditch player, she'd also given it her own position.

"Maybe she'll want to be a Seeker," he said, glancing down at their hands again. But Ginny shook her head.

"No, she wants to be a Chaser. I can tell."

He wasn't going to argue with her. He would be fine with anything- boy, girl, it didn't matter to him. If the kid wanted to play Quidditch, he'd _certainly _have no problem with that. He could just imagine how much fun he and Ginny would have together teaching the kid how to fly and all about the rules of the game. Seeker, Chaser… He didn't care either way, as long as the kid loved flying. He couldn't see how it would have any other choice, considering the fact that both parents loved the game as much as they did. The prospect of training up a Quidditch player made the whole thing that much more exciting.

He was glad to be home, back with his little family, and when they finally sat down to eat, he told Ginny just how happy he was. She smiled the whole time he talked, and he could see it all reflected in her eyes as well. The weekend away had given him a short break, but it had made him all the more appreciative of what he had at home. Soon they'd be moving into their new house, and just a few months after that, they'd have the baby. It all sounded so perfect that he couldn't even find it in himself to be scared anymore.

It was, after all, everything he'd ever wanted.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for the reviews on the last chapter, you guys make me smile!


	25. Birthday Beginnings

**BACK TO THE BEGINNING**

**Chapter 25**

**BIRTHDAY BEGINNINGS**

* * *

Twenty-five.

It sounded so _old. _Logically, Hermione knew that it wasn't that old. It was only mid-twenties, and that was young by most people's standards. On the other hand, it was a quarter of a century, and put like that, it sounded a _lot _older. It was older than she felt. She still felt like she was eighteen a lot of the time, despite the fact that she'd been working and living on her own for several years. She wasn't sure why she felt so young, especially considering the fact that she'd all but missed out on a great deal of her teen years. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that she still surrounded herself mainly with the same people she had as a teenager. Even though they were all grown with careers of their own, they were still very much the same people they had been years before.

So hearing the number _twenty-five _was especially daunting and came as somewhat of a shock.

Still, as her birthday approached, Hermione felt less than thrilled. It wasn't so much her distaste at the thought of growing old, but it was more to do with the fact that she had nothing to look forward to. She was going to be working on her birthday and would likely end up at the Ministry for more than ten hours that day. That was nothing out of the ordinary, of course, as she'd spent the better part of the summer working extra long days. Her proposal on top of all the regular workload was enough to warrant the extra hours. It didn't matter anyway, considering the fact that the only thing she had waiting for at her home was a tin of biscuits and a cat. And as much as she loved Crookshanks, she could stand to be away from him for a few hours to further her career along.

She couldn't believe it was already September, though. The summer, while seeming to drag by so slowly, seemed to have gone by in super speed as she looked back. Harry and Ginny's wedding just seemed like yesterday, but they'd already done that, gone on their wedding trip, returned, Harry'd had his birthday, Ginny had had hers, and now it was Hermione's turn. And after that, summer would be officially over.

It didn't matter, though. Ron would be home in four days, and then everything would be just fine. If she could just make it through the next few days, everything would be perfect. While she'd been incredibly overrun at work, all the extra hours had played double duty. She'd worked enough over the past few weeks to be able to take a few days off when he got home. He wouldn't be there for long, of course, but she didn't plan on wasting any of that time. Two months was an awfully long time to be apart, and she intended on making up for every bit of the lost time. She sincerely hoped that he didn't have any other plans, like seeing his family or anything like that, that would interfere with her own plans.

She was tired, though. Literally physically exhausted. She was used to working hard, as she'd been doing it her entire life. Pouring over books and papers and spending hours over a desk were nothing new for her. She was, admittedly, a bit of an overachiever, so it was easy for her to get wrapped up in her work and lose hours making sure every last detail was added and complete. She still second-guessed herself terribly, of course, but she was a hard worker and, generally, it usually paid off. Still, books, papers… those things were easy. Children, on the other hand… not so much.

She didn't know why she'd agreed to babysit, but she'd told Bill and Fleur that she would watch the girls for the evening while they attended a Gringotts banquet of some sort. It was the night before her birthday, and while she'd already planned to stay over the next day, she cut the current one short in order to take care of the girls. She was a bit surprised when Fleur asked actually because she wasn't usually top of the list when it came to babysitters. Not that she wasn't _trusted, _of course, but she was certainly one of the _busier _options. It was usually Mrs. Weasley or even Angelina who got coaxed into babysitting, but while Hermione was a bit surprised, she didn't mind.

Victoire and Dominique were certainly a handful, even on the best of days. That was nothing new, of course, as Hermione was well aware of their level of energy. It wasn't Dominique so much, but Vic alone was sometimes more than one person could handle. Dominique was actually quite a pleasant child most of the time. She was even-tempered and generally quiet, but Victoire lived to torment her little sister. She was an agitator in the supreme, and she made a game of picking at the younger child until she started screaming or crying. Of course, this more often than not landed Vic in a heap of trouble, but she didn't seem to mind too much.

At the moment, though, both girls were calm and quiet.

It was a miracle really, as Hermione rarely witnessed anything of the sort. She was thankful, though, and certainly wasn't going to question it. She'd sat the girls at her kitchen table and set them a project that involved finger paint and glitter. It was _horribly _messy, of course, but Hermione didn't mind. It was inspiring their creativity and fostering their minds, two things that she thought were extremely important in young children. Plus, it kept them from running crazy and destroying her flat. If she could keep the mess contained to one table, she was more than content.

While the girls worked on their creations, Hermione started preparing dinner for them. She'd just done something simple because she wasn't that great of a cook and also because, well, they were kids. It wasn't as if they had extremely high standards. She was fairly certain that she could feed them cardboard, and they wouldn't really know the difference. She made them meatballs and noodles (_not _spaghetti, as Vic had a rather severe tomato allergy) and started warming it on the stove.

While it was heating up, she ventured back over to the table to take a look at the creations. Dominique's seemed to resemble a large black blob with a few sprinkles of glitter. She'd apparently tried mixing every color choice together and had come up with a dark, grainy color, and she'd nearly missed her painting altogether when it came to sparkling it up, as there was far more glitter on the edge of the table and the floor than there was on the picture.

"That's beautiful, Dominique," she said sweetly, mirroring the smile that the toddler flashed her. "It's so pretty!" In addition to fostering creativity, Hermione also believed that positive reinforcement was key to encouraging a child's development. While she had no children of her own, of course, she made a point to try and encourage all of Ron's nieces and nephews because, well, they were really the only kids she knew.

Dominique was appreciative of the praise and continued grinning madly as Hermione turned her attention to Victoire's. Whereas her little sister had simply gone headfirst into mixing as many colors as one, Vic had taken a much more careful approach. The result, of course, was that her picture was actually _colorful. _There were swirls of blues, pinks, yellows, greens, purples, and reds. The glitter was carefully applied all over the picture (though plenty still ended up on the floor), and her paper looked like a sparkling rainbow.

"Wow, Vic," she said appreciatively, "that looks _amazing! _Tell me about it." She knew better than to come right out and ask what it was, as that would only serve in making Vic think it was unintelligible. It was much better to ask children to explain pictures than to just ask them what they were painting. At least according to all the child psychology books she'd recently taken to reading in an attempt to better prepare Harry and Ginny.

Victoire pushed some hair behind her ears and climbed up onto her knees to sit up straighter. "It's Teddy," she said bluntly, her eyes blinking widely. "See, this is how his hair looks." She ran her fingers across the colorful swirls. Hermione was rather impressed with her intuitiveness, especially considering the fact that she was just four years old.

"His hair does look like that, doesn't it?" she asked, and Vic nodded. "What does _your _hair look like?"

She watched as Victoire reached across the table and dipped her fingers into the yellow. Without speaking, she ran them in a line straight across the paper.

"Like that," she said, wiping her fingers on the wet rag beside her. "Boring."

"It's not boring," Hermione assured her, twirling some of said hair between her fingers, still stunned at how soft and fine it was. "Your hair is lovely."

Vic just wrinkled her nose and didn't seem so convinced.

"How does Dominique's hair look?" Hermione was very impressed when Vic dipped her first two fingers into the pink and then dotted them randomly across the yellow streak. Of course Dominique's hair was not yellow with pink polka dots, but it _was_ very blonde with light red natural highlights streaking through it. She was extremely impressed with the way Victoire had interpreted her younger sister's hair, and she told her so. "That's perfect, Victoire!" The four year old smiled at her, obviously quite pleased with herself. "You really like Teddy, don't you?" Hermione asked, and Victoire nodded seriously.

"Yes, he's my boyfriend."

Hermione fought hard not to laugh, as she certainly hadn't expected that answer. Still, she tried to be as serious as possible and just raised her eyebrows. "Oh, _is _he?"

"Yes," Victoire said firmly. "But don't tell him because he doesn't know it. It's a secret."

"Oh." Hermione pursed her lips and nodded. "Okay. I won't tell."

This pleased Victoire who, once again, smiled widely and then held her hands up. "Can you help me?"

Hermione nodded and led her over to the sink. She lifted her up to sit on the counter and started running the tap so that she could get her cleaned up. "Hey, Aunt Hermione, can me and Dominique-"

"_May _Dominique and _I?" _Hermione corrected her patiently.

Victoire, though, was clearly confused. She looked completely lost and wrinkled her forehead in confusion. "May you and Dominique what?"

Hermione just stared at her, speechless. Deciding it wasn't even worth the battle, she just shook her head. "What was your question?"

"Can we stay here tonight?"

"Not all night. Just until your mum and dad get back."

"But we want to stay _here," _Victoire said, holding her hands out for scrubbing. "Don't we, Dom?" She craned her neck to look over her shoulder. Hermione, too, glanced at the two year old, but Dominique just stared at them blankly and then blew a spit bubble. "That means yes," Victoire said seriously. "That's what she does when she means yes."

"Oh, is it?"

Victoire nodded, and Hermione wiped away the last remnants of paint from her fingers. She tried not to laugh at how serious Victoire was being as she lifted her off the counter and motioned Dominique over instead. Victoire ran off, shouting something about needing to find a loo, and Dominique toddled over to Hermione and waited for her own turn to be lifted onto the counter for scrubbing down.

"You are much lighter than your sister, do you know that?" Hermione asked, turning the tap down just a bit cooler after Dominique was settled onto the counter. She got no response, of course, as Dominique rarely spoke. There wasn't much need for her to speak, really, as Victoire talked enough for the pair of them. Instead, she just held her hands out patiently and waited for them to be cleaned. "Are you hungry?" Hermione asked, hoping to get a response out of a fairly simple question. It worked, too, because Dominique nodded.

She was just about to tell her that they were going to eat when Vic came flying back into the room at top speed. "Aunt Hermione!" she said breathlessly, her chest heaving dramatically. Hermione stopped scrubbing Dominique down and turned around to raise her eyebrows questioningly. "Did you know Uncle Ron's here?"

Hermione sighed and shook her head. "No, honey, I already told you," she said gently, "he's at work." It was much easier to just explain the absence as work because that was a word that four year olds could comprehend. Victoire, though, didn't seem convinced.

"Nuh-uh, no," she said, shaking her head. "He's here right now."

Hermione was just about to correct her again when she stopped mid-thought. Apparently Victoire was right because, sure enough, there standing in the kitchen doorway, was Ron. Hermione stared at him wordlessly for a moment, completely in shock. Ron raised his eyebrows and motioned to the kids.

"Did they move in here?"

That broke through her shock, and she was finally able to formulate a coherent thought. Her face broke into a huge smile, and she shook her head in confusion.

"What are you _doing _here?"

He smiled back at her and shrugged. "Happy birthday?"

She flew at him then, rushing at him and throwing both of her arms tightly around his neck. He caught her easily, lifting her a few feet off the ground as he hugged her back. She just barely kissed him for a second, though, before Vic let out a disgusted, _"Ew!" _and Dominique let out a rather dramatic sort of shriek. That immediately jerked Hermione's attention, as she realized all too suddenly that she'd left a two year old completely unattended on a rather high kitchen counter. She hurried back over to where she'd left her and then set her down.

"You guys start cleaning up," she told them both, shooing them in the direction of the table. She'd planned to simply clean that bit up with her wand, as the girls were bound to do nothing but get extremely messy again, but she needed a viable distraction. And that was perfect. They both did as they were told, and then she hurried right back over to Ron who was looking a little bit stunned that his welcome home had been interrupted by two children who certainly didn't belong to them.

"What're they doing here?" he asked, and she shook her head and dragged him into the corridor.

"Babysitting," she said quickly, running her hands back up to his neck. "What're _you _doing here?"

"Well, it turns out that the last few days of each term are just review, and they're not really compulsory…" He smiled at her, moving so that he could get his arms around her waist again. "And… it's your birthday."

She wanted to faint when he kissed her. It had been ages, and she suddenly felt every second of it poured into that one kiss. She missed him worse than she'd ever missed anything in her entire life. She missed everything about him. She wanted him to stand right there in that hallway and kiss her for the rest of forever because right then at that second, that's how long it seemed that she would need.

He gave her a good and proper kiss, exactly the kind she would expect after two months of being separated, and it felt _fantastic. _He put his hands all over her, and she didn't care one single bit. It occurred to her that her inherent reaction should be to scold him for skipping out on the review, but she couldn't make herself care about anything at all except for the fact that she didn't want him to stop what he was doing for even a second. She let herself get completely caught up in it and almost forgot all about the visitors in the kitchen. It wasn't until Ron reminded her that she even remembered.

"How do we get rid of these damn kids?" he mumbled, briefly removing his mouth from her own to drag his lips down her neck. She was a bit horrified with herself that she could barely form an intelligible thought. It made her feel an awful lot like a dirty slag, but she couldn't help herself. She didn't want to think about _anything _other than the course his hands were going to take as they ran all over her body.

Still. The kids.

"We can't," she mumbled, tilting her head at back to give him a better angle and full access to as much of her neck as possible. "Bill and Fleur are at a banquet."

Ron made some sort of strangled growling noise and let his forehead drop onto her shoulder. "_Hermione…" _He was whining now, but she couldn't help it.

"I didn't know you were coming home!" she said, pushing him up by his shoulders until she could see his face. "Trust me, if I had, Victoire and Dominique would _not _be here."

Almost as if on cue, the girls showed back up in the hallway. One look at them told Hermione everything she needed to know… _Never _let children under five clean up. Victoire was holding her sister at arm's length, but while she had a bit of paint splashes on her arms and a dash of glitter in her hair, _Dominique _was an absolute _mess. _She had seemingly dumped an entire jar of red paint down her front and had apparently shoved her face into the green. She looked like some little strawberry blonde Christmas elf or something.

"Dom made a mess," Victoire said needlessly. Hermione blinked at the pair of them and then shook her head.

"Come on," she said, holding out a hand for Dominique. She was going to need a full bath, and the quicker the better. She glanced apologetically at Ron who just raised his eyebrows in disbelief. She felt horrible, but what choice did she have? It didn't matter anyway because he was distracted a second later when Victoire attached herself to his leg.

"Come look at my picture," she ordered him, leaning her head back and staring straight up at him.

He looked down at her and said nothing and then looked back at Hermione. She gave him a regretful little smile that she hoped showed enough promise for later to satisfy him. He rolled his eyes but allowed himself to be dragged into the kitchen by his niece without protest. Hermione, in turn, steered Dominique back to the bath in the back of the flat. She tried making small talk with her again, but she was just met with several more blank stares and wide blue blinking eyes. She bathed her and dressed her as quickly as possible, rubbing a towel through her hair once she was clean and out of the tub. She was actually thankful that Dominique was so nonverbal, as memories of the one and only time she'd tried bathing Victoire came flooding back to her. _That _had been a nightmare, as Vic had done nothing except whine and cry and scream and protest the entire time. Dominique, on the other hand, simply sat by quietly and allowed herself to be cleaned. When they were all done, she picked her up and carried her back to the kitchen.

It was absolutely spotless.

The mess on the table was gone completely, the paints and glitter out of sight and out of mind. The two paintings were hanging up to dry on the refrigerator, and the table was now set for dinner. Victoire was also cleaned up and was now sitting nicely at the table, as Ron leaned over and helped her fix a plate. It was a very simple sort of scene and one that very nearly brought tears to Hermione's eyes. She wasn't sure why she was so emotional or what exactly about the scene triggered such a reaction, but she had the strongest feeling that this was one of those moments you were supposed to take a mental snapshot of and keep in your memory forever. Maybe one day this would be their reality, and every night of their lives would involve bathing babies and helping kids set the table.

She kind of couldn't wait.

He looked up, finally noticing her apparently. He met her eye and sort of half-smiled, a motion she couldn't help returning. Something secret passed between them in that quick look, and she locked it up with the mental snapshot so that she could go back to it whenever she wanted. He was thinking the same sort of thoughts, she was positive, and that thought alone made her so full of happiness that she couldn't stand it.

She walked over to the table and set Dominique down in her chair. Ron took over from there and helped her, too, with a plate of noodles. Hermione watched him, and every once in awhile, he'd look up and meet her gaze as the girls got started with their pasta. He smiled with his eyes, and she felt herself melting.

She couldn't wait to have him alone and all to herself, but for now, everything was just beautiful.

She had a feeling twenty-five wasn't going to be too bad after all.

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A/N: Thanks so much for everyone who has read and especially for everyone who has reviewed! It's great motivation and means a lot!


	26. Roses and Rings

**BACK TO THE BEGINNING**

**Chapter 26**

**ROSES AND RINGS**

* * *

Ron slept better than he had in weeks.

Most of that, of course, was due to the fact that he was actually in his own bed. The cots at the training camp were hard and uncomfortable and not at all too welcoming. His bed at home, on the other hand, was soft and warm and comfortable. That was what he missed most out of all the normal little things- he missed it more than he missed clean clothes and hot showers or cooled air and decent meals. Even shared with another person, that bed allowed him more room than the one at the camp did. But, of course, the sharing was the best part. His stupid, hard, uncomfortable bed wouldn't seem nearly as awful if he was sharing it.

Waking up next to a warm body was one of the best feelings in the world. Waking up next to _her _warm body was even better. He opened his eyes to a face full of brown curls, and all he wanted to do was lie there and play with her hair all morning. She had about a billion curls, and he thought it was the sexiest thing. As much as she hated her hair, he wouldn't change one thing about it. He moved it aside just a bit as he leaned up and looked down at her. She was still sleeping quite soundly, as her chest rose and fell gently and evenly. It was just past 8:30, so he knew she was sleeper later than she meant to, as she normally went to work before 9. They'd been up late the night before, though, trying to make up for lost time, of course.

When he'd decided to skip out on the review and come home a few days early, he'd meant to surprise her. He'd imagined the reunion in his head, and none of the scenarios he came up with involved Victoire and Dominique or sauceless spaghetti. It was his own fault, he supposed, for trying to be romantic and surprise her., as he was nearly always pretty shit when he tried to be romantic… If Hermione had known of his plan, she certainly wouldn't have agreed to babysitting the brats, and they wouldn't have spent the first five hours of their reunion playing Candyland and alternating between fairy tales and preschool sing-alongs. They couldn't even get alone time when it got so late that Vic just passed out on the sofa. Dominique had apparently napped for a long time earlier in the day because she was awake and extremely fussy as the night got longer. Ron was ready to murder Bill and Fleur by the time they decided to actually show up and collect their kids at half midnight. He was even more irritated when they were surprised to see him and actually decided to sit down and have a little visit. Even Dominique passed out by that point, and it wasn't until thirty minutes into their small talk that Bill seemed to correctly interpret his irritable one word answers and narrowed eyes. To be that smart, he was sure fucking thick sometimes. Finally, they left and took their sleeping kids with them.

And then they were finally alone.

He'd been waiting on that moment since the second he left, and he didn't waste any time at all. He had her back in the bedroom and was doing all the things he'd been waiting to do for weeks. She didn't protest at all, despite the fact that it was so late and she had to work in the morning. Apparently she'd been waiting just as long as he had because she seemed rather a bit desperate. He loved it. Finally, though, they had to go to sleep, so he wrapped his arms around her tightly, and they drifted off together.

Now the sun was up, she was late for work, and she was having a lie in on her birthday. It was sort of perfect. As quietly as possible, he slipped out of bed and out to the kitchen. He could make her a quick breakfast and surprise her before she had to leave for work. He figured if she was already late, what difference did it make at this point? Besides, it would give him another opportunity to try and do something _romantic. _After all, there were no ruddy kids around to fuck it up this time.

The breakfast was simple enough, and he put it together quickly. She wasn't normally a big eater, so he didn't even bother trying to do anything elaborate, as it would either just go to waste or would be left for him to eat cold. Besides, she would appreciate the gesture- she liked little things like that. He got out the tray and set the plate of food and a little glass of juice on it. Thinking quickly, he decided to go even one step further into the romance aspect and conjured up a single flower. Roses were her favorites, especially yellow ones, and she constantly talked about planting a bush when they actually got a house and had a garden, despite the fact that she had trouble even keeping a potted plant alive. Still, he was pleased with the flower he managed to conjure as he laid it carefully down beside the food.

She was still sleeping as he levitated the tray back to their room. He stood watching her for a second before gently sitting down on the edge of the bed and leaning over to kiss her forehead. She woke up then, her eyes fluttering open as she looked around. The second she spotted him, though, she smiled widely, waking up instantly.

"Morning," he said, and she continued to smile as she pushed herself into a sitting position.

He moved the tray over and landed it perfectly across her lap. She looked down at it and then back up at him.

"Happy birthday," he explained, returning the smile that was still etched across her face.

"You didn't have to do all this," she said, glancing down at the tray of food again. When she looked back up, though, she was smiling even more fully. "But I'm happy you did!"

He helped her out by taking the knife and buttering a piece of toast for her as she ate a few forkful of eggs. She offered him a bite as he finished with the toast, and he took it. She actually did that quite a bit, and he ended up being fed nearly half her breakfast. He wasn't surprised, of course, as she'd never been a huge eater, and he wasn't offended that she was giving away half of what he'd made. It helped that she was feeding it to him, so the sex appeal alone on it made it difficult to be offended. When the food was gone, he banished the tray back to the kitchen, but not before she'd grabbed the rose and set it carefully on the bedside table.

"What time is it?" she finally asked. He was a little surprised, as he'd expected that to be her very first question upon waking. He glanced at his watch .

"9:17."

"I'm late." It was a simple observation, not one she sounded terribly upset by.

He nodded. "Yeah. A bit."

"It doesn't matter."

"Good. Because I'm about to take your clothes off."

She laughed, but he could tell she was somewhat on the same train of thought. Still, she had to at least _pretend _to be logical. "I don't need to be _too _late."

"There's less than two hours before you officially turn twenty-five. I'm just trying to get one more shag in before you become an old woman."

It was obvious that he was teasing by the smile on his face, but Hermione did a good job of feigning outrage as her eyes went to twice their size. She tried to hit him, but he caught her fist, laughing, and moved in for a kiss. She let him carry on for about thirty seconds before pulling back and narrowing her eyes.

"That's _not _a good way to get me to sleep with you."

He shrugged and then made good on his promise of taking her clothes off. It wasn't as if she had a lot of clothes on to begin with, as she was only wearing a t-shirt she grabbed from the closet right before falling asleep. He slipped it over her head easily and left her only in her knickers. She didn't try to resist it, and she seemed to forgive him completely for his old woman insult. Of course he didn't think she was an old woman. She still looked about eighteen, and he had a feeling she would be one of those people perpetually confined to look younger than she really was. She hadn't changed much at all since their school days, and he wondered if she'd always be eighteen to him. She was eighteen the first time he kissed her, the first time he saw her naked, and the first time he told her he loved her. Eighteen was a good year- the whole war and Voldemort and people dying bit excepted, of course.

She was a bit on the small side, and he always noticed this the most when he got her laid out underneath him. She'd made the mention last night that he'd gotten bigger in his weeks away at training. By bigger, of course, she meant that he wasn't quite as skinny as before. He knew she was right, as he could see the difference in his muscles himself, but it wasn't surprising considering the fact that he was doing manual training for damn close to thirteen hours a day. He was bound to build himself up at least a bit, wasn't he? At the moment, she was running a hand slowly down his arm and over the newly defined muscle there. He didn't protest when she moved those hands to run down his chest instead. She had tiny little fingernails that were just little more than stubs, but he could feel them against his skin, and it thrilled him a little bit. He kissed her rather roughly and moved until she was lying completely underneath him.

She didn't argue one bit.

He thought she was perfect. She was self-conscious in the same way all girls were self-conscious. She didn't see how beautiful she was or how perfect every bit of her body was. She often complained about what she termed her "horribly average" looks, but he couldn't understand what she was looking at. He loved everything about the way she looked, and he didn't waste any time at all in showing her. He'd gone too long without touching her, and he tried desperately to make up for every bit of it. He could feel her skin literally heating up as his hands moved all over her body. He tried to touch everythng all at once because he'd gone too long touching nothing.

She didn't mind at all.

An hour and a half later, he'd got in his one last shag as well as dragged her to the shower, and they were both getting ready for the day. She did have to go to work after all, though she swore she was leaving at lunchtime. He decided to hit up the shop while she was at the Ministry and check in to see how things were going in his absence. They were clean and dressed when they said their goodbyes. He pulled her back in for a last kiss about six times before he finally let her go. She Disapparated, but she promised before she went that she'd hurry up at work and do the bare minimum. She promised to meet him in Diagon Alley for lunch when she was finished. He spent a little while straightening up the flat and putting away all the breakfast dishes. Then he finished up getting ready himself and left for the shop. He wanted to see how things were, but he certainly had an ulterior motive for the visit as well, one he'd been thinking of nonstop for weeks now.

Diagon Alley was rather quiet when he Apparated onto the side street. This wasn't surprising, of course, as all the kids were back in school and most of the adults were at work. There were a few people milling around, glancing in shop windows, but for the most part, it was pretty dead. He headed straight for WWWs and walked right into the familiar store without hesitating. It wasn't until he'd stepped foot into the bright, loud shop that he realized he'd actually missed the place. A loud farting noise announced his entrance, and he waved at one of the sales girls named Charla. She was fairly new, but she smiled and waved back as he walked through the store, looking 'round for his brother.

He found George at the cash register, counting the till and making notes on a little notepad that would later be transcribed into the record book. He didn't notice Ron until he'd been standing there for a good thirty seconds and actually had to ding the bell for service. When the bell sounded, though, George looked up with a start and then grinned widely.

"Well, don't you look like the fucking walking dead!" he said loudly, jumping down from his stool and coming around the counter to wrap Ron up in what proved to be a rather bone-crushing hug. It was exaggerated on purpose, and Ron didn't manage to shove him off for what was probably a good forty-five seconds.

He finally managed to free himself and push George away. "Are you trying to kill me or what?"

George ignored him and instead grabbed his arm and dragged him back into the storeroom. He shoved him into a chair immediately and sat down across from him at one of the makeshift desks constructed over a folding table and a few stacks of parchment. "I didn't know you were coming back today!"

"I left early." Ron shrugged. "It's just review right now anyway. It's not mandatory."

"And it's Hermione's birthday," George supplied knowingly, his eyes twinkling just a bit. "I'm sure that has nothing to do with it."

Ron was actually surprised that his brother _knew _it was Hermione's birthday, but he figured she'd been around long enough that perhaps it shouldn't be such a shock. He wasn't sure why his cheeks heated up, but he could feel the familiar blush building behind his ears and down into his neck.

"It worked out pretty well," he admitted, not sure at all what he had to be embarrassed by.

"Well, maybe now she'll finally stop being so annoyingly depressed." Ron raised his eyebrows, and his brother went on to clarify a bit better. "You know I love that girl, but for the past few weeks… Well, it's taken real effort not to grab her 'round the neck and just choke her."

Ron guessed that the look on his face must have been rather amusing because George actually laughed out loud. Ron, on the other hand, was so shocked and outraged that he could not think of a single thing to say.

"Relax, baby brother. I would never actually do it. I used to want to choke her every single time I saw her for a whole lot of years, so I got pretty good at resisting the urge."

Ron fought his own urge to grab his wand and hex his brother right there in his own shop. "You do know she's really smart, don't you?" he asked defiantly. "She could probably fuck you up or kill you in about two seconds."

"Which is exactly why I perfected resisting the urge." George laughed and rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on, you know she was pretty grating when she was a kid."

Ron knew this better than anyone, but he refused to admit it out loud. Especially to George. Instead, he changed the subject. "How's the baby?"

George smirked irritatingly, obviously knowing exactly what he was doing. Still, he didn't push it. "He's good. He's trying to walk."

"No shit?" Ron raised his eyebrows in surprise. It didn't seem possible that he was old enough to be walking.

But George nodded. "Well, yeah. I mean, he's crap at it so far, but he's trying. He's pulling himself up and all that."

Ron couldn't believe kids grew so fast. He had four nieces, and he'd been amazed at every one of them as they grew so big so quickly. He figured that Lucy must be walking or at least trying to walk now if Fred was, as she was a few months older than him. If she was smart, she'd learn how to run before she could walk, so she could get away from her parents as soon as possible… And now Ginny was knocked up and having a baby in like three months. Besides Charlie, who obviously had no plans whatsoever of settling down and having a family, Ron was the only one who _wasn't _raising kids. It hadn't bothered him until very recently. He wasn't positive that it really _did _bother him- not the kids part anyway. Kids were a big deal and a lot of responsibility and basically the end of any and all freedom, and he wasn't positive he wanted all of that right this second. But he knew he wanted some part of it, which was the whole basis for his visit here today.

Figuring he wasn't going to get any better segue, he cleared his throat and looked up nervously. George could tell something was up because he had a rather bemused look on his face, as though he couldn't wait to hear whatever was about to come out of his younger brother's mouth. Ron didn't even know why he was so nervous, but he didn't like feeling so needy. Still, he'd made up his mind, and there wasn't really any other choice.

"I need to borrow some money."

He just came right out and said it. He didn't see the point in beating around the bush, as he was never actually going to feel _comfortable _asking. Just getting it over with was the best he could do.

George, for what it was worth, did not immediately laugh in his face. Instead, he just sort of raised his eyebrows and nodded. "Am I allowed to ask why? Or I'm just supposed to hand over my money with no questions asked?"

"I need to buy a ring."

This was apparently just exactly the sort of answer George had been waiting on because his face lit up in a frightening sort of smile. Ron had seen that look way too many times in his life to even feel remotely comfortable. George was about to make his life hell, and he knew it. Still, he was used to it, so he simply braced himself for the inevitable.

"Don't tell me you're going to be one of _those _dipshits and propose to a girl on her _birthday! _That's so fucking cliché, mate. You gotta do better than that."

Ron was slightly surprised. He'd predicted much worse. Instead, he just shook his head. "I'm not."

"Then what the hell do you need a ring for if you aren't going to propose?"

"I mean I'm not going to do it on her _birthday." _Ron rolled his eyes, irritated and slightly embarrassed. "I know it's cliché. And anyway, I haven't quite worked myself up to it yet."

This was the wrong thing to say because it opened the door right up to the inevitable hell he was about to catch. George rolled his own eyes and shook his head in disbelief. "Pathetic," he said, still shaking his head. "You've been shagging that girl for six years, and you were wanking over her for at least four or five before that. You'd think you'd have enough balls to at least make it official!"

Ron felt his face darken as he slumped down into his seat and crossed his arms. "I'm gonna ask her, alright? I just gotta get the right time and all that, but I need a ring. So can I borrow the fucking money or not?"

George shook his head and clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "You sure are shit at buttering people up to ask for money, you know that?"

Ron wanted to punch him right in the nose, but he knew better. He was bigger than his brother now, but he'd still probably get his ass kicked. He'd never in his life got in a fight with either twin that hadn't ended up with him getting the shit beat out of him. It was largely to do with the whole two on one thing, of course, and it was a fairly normal occurrence. The twins would beat him, their mum would beat the twins up, and sometimes he'd be so pissed off that he'd go find Ginny so he could hit or kick her just for the hell of it. Then his mum would lay into _him _as well, and he'd end up with three beatings instead of just the one that he was positive most normal kids had to endure. So much violence, and so unfair…

"Look," he said, snapping out of his eight year old mindset. "I bought her a ring already, but it's shit. It's just… _crap. _I don't want to give it to her because it's cheap and ugly, and I want to give her something better than that."

"Oh, when did she become superficial?"

George sounded just like Harry except in a much nastier way. Ron once again had to think over the consequences of punching him. "She isn't," he said bitingly. "But _I _want her to have better." He hesitated a second and then lowered his voice. "But I don't have any money."

They were interrupted then as the door to the storeroom pushed open and Hermione herself appeared. Ron was shocked that she'd finished up so quickly, but she _had, _after all, promised to do the absolute bare minimum. Apparently she'd kept that promise well. George grabbed her up immediately, wrapping her up so tightly in an over-exaggerated hug that Ron was actually surprised her bones didn't break. He wanted to disappear because he didn't trust one bit that George wouldn't say or do something ridiculous to embarrass him and spill his secret. Hermione, though, managed to squeeze out of his embrace and looked at him crossly.

"What?" George asked innocently. "I'm just so happy to see you! Happy birthday!"

She looked at him suspiciously but said nothing. Instead, she turned to Ron and looked at him still slumped in his chair. "You shouldn't slouch like that. You're going to give yourself back problems."

Ron's immediate reaction was to roll his eyes, but he was interrupted as he glanced George doing exactly that behind her shoulder. He watched as his brother held up both hands in a little circle right behind Hermione and mimed choking her. Hermione apparently noticed the way his face darkened and the fact that he was looking over her head because she turned around to see what was happening. George, though, stopped immediately and just offered her a sugary smile.

"Look at you," he said, patting her cheek teasingly. "A quarter of a century old and still just as fit as you were as a teenager!"

Ron would feel the urge to be angry if anyone else had said it besides George. Not that it wasn't true, of course, but George was just a dickhead like that. He would have said the same thing if she'd gained a hundred pounds and sprouted chin hairs. Luckily she had done neither.

Hermione rolled her own eyes and ignored him altogether. Instead, she turned back to Ron and smiled. "So, guess what I just heard," she said brightly.

He would never guess, of course, so he just shook his head questioningly. She did a requisite glance at George to see if he had any guesses, but he just mimicked her bright smile and shook his own head. After a brief pause, she answered herself.

"Malfoy's engaged!"

Ron immediately felt ill to his stomach. This was due in part to the fact that someone was actually stupid enough to marry that prick, but it was more due to the fact that even that prick had the balls to propose to someone, while he himself apparently did not.

"What idiot got talked into _that?" _George asked the question, but it was the one on the tip of Ron's tongue.

"Astoria Greengrass."

"Daphne's little sister?" Ron raised an eyebrow. "Isn't she like… twelve?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "She's… twenty-two ? Maybe. I don't know, but she's certainly not _twelve_. She's only a couple of years younger."

"I wonder how much they paid her for that." Ron couldn't imagine anyone willingly saying yes to _that _proposal.

"She's probably pregnant," George spoke up helpfully.

The thought alone made Ron want to vomit. "God, let's hope for the sake of all humanity that that son of a bitch is sterile and not _able _to procreate. Can you imagine the spawn of that bastard?"

Hermione, though, smiled rather evilly. "Aww," she said sarcastically, "maybe their baby will grow up and woo little Freddie!"

Ron snorted, and George just glowered. "Not bloody likely," he said flatly. "I'd have him shipped to Siberia before that would happen."

"Well, I'm sure Draco would have his little one killed before he'd allow it to happen, so I don't think you need to worry." Hermione still looked rather amused by the idea, though.

Ron, of course, was still holding onto the hope that the bastard was unable to reproduce and that the Malfoy name would end with him. That would be the best option, though not very likely.

George raised his eyebrows and nodded in agreement. "Well, I guess I'll leave you two lovebirds to it," he said, once again pulling Hermione into a tight hug. "Happy birthday, sweetheart. Try not to get too wasted." He let her go then and slapped Ron on the back a couple of times before heading out of the storeroom and leaving them alone.

Once he was alone with Hermione, Ron forgot all about the fact that he hadn't got an answer to his whole reason for showing up at the shop in the first place. It was easy to get distracted by her, and he found it difficult to think about _anything _else. It wasn't until much later that night when he was putting his clothes in the laundry that he happened to check the pocket of his jeans.

There, folded neatly, was a bank withdraw slip for George's personal Gringotts vault in the amount of three-thousand galleons.

Maybe his brother wasn't pure evil after all.

* * *

A/N: Thanks to everyone who left reviews for the last chapter! You guys make my day! Thanks for reading!


	27. Bellies and Battles

**BACK TO THE BEGINNING**

**Chapter 27**

**BELLIES AND BATTLES**

* * *

Harry couldn't believe how quickly time was flying.

It hardly seemed possible that summer was over and they were well into autumn, but looking outside, he could see nothing but a blur of orange and red and brown as leaves fell from the trees and littered his garden. It still seemed odd that he would even _have _a garden. He was so used to living in his flat that looking out and actually seeing _grass s_eemed strange. He was used to looking out his bedroom window and seeing a crowded city street. There were no crowded city streets close by now. There were just a few quiet streets lined with houses of well-behaved, most middle-aged, Muggles, and even those were a couple miles away. For the most part, they were fairly secluded in their new home.

They were settling in fairly well, and they'd been moved in completely for almost two months. Both flats were gone, and while there were still a few things packed away in boxes, they were mostly settled in. Ginny'd gone mad decorating and buying new things, but she seemed to enjoy it, so he didn't mind. She chose nice things, too, so everything really did look rather fantastic. He was getting more and more used to coming home to that house every single day.

He was also starting to actually _feel _married.

It had taken awhile to get used to the idea, but he'd stopped feeling strange every time he heard someone refer to his wife or every time he thought about the fact that he was someone's husband. It was sort of nice actually.

Ginny, meanwhile, was growing each and every day. And by growing, he meant that her stomach was expanding rather exponentially. He was always shocked every time he looked at her and saw how _pregnant _she was. Of course, he _never _said that because he was witnessing more than enough of her reaction to other people saying it. She usually gritted her teeth and forced a smile when people came up and put both their hands on her stomach and exclaimed, _"You're getting so big!" _but he was well aware of the fact that she absolutely _hated _it. He knew this, of course, because he was always the one she came complaining to afterwards. The worst had been a week before when she was craving Chinese food and convinced him to take her out for dinner. The owner of the restaurant smiled widely when they entered. _"You must be due very soon!" _Ginny had done her familiar teeth gritting and answered that she wasn't due until December. The owner, in turn, clapped her hands together excitedly and said, _"Oh, twins!"_

Ginny burst into tears the second they sat down.

Harry, too, had felt a bit like crying actually, but not for the same reasons as Ginny. Ginny was crying because she was so "_disgustingly fat," _as she called it. He wanted to cry because he was beginning to worry that there really _were _twins in there. He didn't see how one baby could take up so much room, especially one that wasn't even due to be born for another two month. It scared him because he knew enough about genetics to know that twins normally ran in families. Ginny obviously had twins in her family, and so far, none of her siblings had produced any new sets. He felt that perhaps they were playing a bit of Russian Roulette with the possibility.

He didn't know what he would do with twins. If they were anything like Fred and George, he'd probably go mental. He could barely handle those two as friends- he didn't think he'd ever be able to deal with them as a parent… Not to mention, of course, he wasn't the best at the whole distinguishing identical people from each other. He'd learnt to tell Fred and George apart, but perhaps that was just luck. After all, he'd spent six years in the same class as Padma and Parvati, and he still couldn't tell you which one had the freckle under her eye. And what kind of dad would that make him if he couldn't even tell his own kids apart? Plus, he was scared enough at the thought of being responsible for _one _baby- he didn't even want to _imagine _two.

As the months crept on, he was starting to get more and more nervous about the baby. Even though they had a house and money and clothes and nappies and all the things you needed for an infant, he wasn't at all sure he knew what the hell he was doing. In fact, he _knew _he wasn't sure. He knew he shouldn't be worrying so much, but he couldn't help it. He couldn't escape the thoughts, though, and all the doubts and nerves that were slowly building up inside him. Truthfully, he was scared to death.

Work wasn't helping any. Even though it offered a bit of a distraction from all his baby worries, it was starting to turn rather stressful. He wasn't so sure that there were actually any certain events that _made _his job suddenly worse, but he was willing to bet that the majority of his problems lay in the fact that he was working himself to death. It wasn't uncommon for him to be gone before the sun came up, and he never returned until it was down. He didn't particularly _enjoy _the extra-long shifts, but they were certainly having a nice effect on his salary. He wasn't too sure how important that was or even how _needed _it was, but he didn't see how it could possibly hurt when he had a wife to support, a new house to pay for, and a baby on the way. Better to have too much than too little, he figured, and besides, he wanted to make sure Ginny had everything she wanted. She was having his baby- the least he could do was spoil her a little bit.

But, at the same time, it wasn't really the perfect newlywed life he'd imagined he'd have, either.

Ginny's moods changed rapidly, and he wasn't at all shocked to see her go from laughing to crying in a matter of seconds these days. Her hormone levels were completely out of whack, and according to the baby books (yes, he read them- he was _trying _to make a real effort), these sort of mood swings were not uncommon. However, her while her heightened hormones had at one point been the highlight of his newlywed life, those same little gits had taken a rather sharp downturn over the past several weeks.

He'd never had _less _sex in his whole history of a sex life.

It'd been good while it lasted, he guessed, but that didn't mean he wasn't sorely disappointed when it all changes. For the first several months, she'd been all over him all the time. Now, though, she tensed up every single time he tried to even touch her. She told him she felt fat and disgusting and unappealing and the least sexiest she'd ever felt in her whole life. He thought it was kind of shit, of course, because even though she _was _very obviously pregnant, she was still the most beautiful woman he could ever imagine seeing. He thought she was beautiful no matter what, but when he tried to tell her that, she'd usually snap at him that he was full of shit and then get angry at him for no apparent reason.

So finally he just gave up.

And one Friday night, after a particularly long and difficult day at work, he decided to come home and fix himself a drink. He'd never been a _heavy _or even a particularly _frequent _drinker, but he enjoyed a bit here and there. The fact that he didn't drink very often made it very easy for him to relax and take the edge off after a glass or two. He didn't think there was any problem with that, but he was apparently just as wrong about that as he was about everything else lately.

"That's nice." Ginny made the comment from her place on the sofa where she was attempting to tune the wireless to a halfway decent station. There seemed to be nothing on except some particularly ear-harming songs sung by what had to be banshees. It was October. There was supposed to be Quidditch talk. Tomorrow was the start of the season, it should be all over the radio. He knew that's what Ginny was looking for as well, so he sat down beside and looked at her quizzically.

"What's wrong?"

She sort of sneered at him and went straight back to tuning the radio.

"Did I do something?"

"No, Harry, of course not." She said this in a way that let him know very clearly that he had, indeed, done something. Though he certainly didn't have a clue as to what it might be.

"Mind helping me out a bit?" He realized it probably sounded hateful, but he wasn't in the mood to be barked at for something he didn't actually do. He'd been at work since seven o'clock that morning, and he was tired.

Ginny rolled her eyes and stopped fiddling with the dial for a moment. "I just love how you think it's so appropriate to just come home, open up a bottle of whiskey, and have done with it."

"So…. What?" he asked, completely confused. "You want me to make you one?" He _knew _it wasn't the smartest thing to say, but he just couldn't make himself care too much. He was too tired. Instead, he just took another sip from his glass.

"Oh, yeah, sure. I always wanted a baby with two heads or a tail or something."

"Having a drink isn't going to give the baby two heads or a tail."

"Oh, I'm sure it's _perfectly _healthy. That's why _all _the doctors and healers in the world recommend it, right?" She could sure be bitchy when she wanted to be.

"Okay, so you don't want one," he said blankly.

She grumbled something at him and went back to tuning the radio. They sat in silence for a little while after that, and she finally got a decent station to tune. There were several matches set for the next day, so there was plenty to commentate on, as three sportscasters all made their predictions for the upcoming season.

"_The Harpies have a couple of new faces on the roster this season. In the most talked about trade of the season, Erica Holly is joining the team as Seeker, while Mindy Pratt is moving to the Arrows. Also joining the team is newcomer Tamara Little who is moving into the Chaser lineup. She's replacing Ginny Weasley who, of course, resigned from the team before the post-season this spring due to her pregnancy. Little has spent the last two seasons as a reserve Chaser for Tutshill, but the Harpies will be her first permanent position. Insiders say that she is trained up well and looks quite appropriate to join the already well-oiled Harpies. It will be interesting to see how the Chaser dynamic changes for the team this year with Weasley out of the picture and new blood on the pitch. Should make for an exciting match!"_

Maybe they _shouldn't _be listening to Quidditch talk.

If Harry thought she was in a bad mood before, it was certainly nothing compared to the way she turned after hearing _that. _Her face was stony, but you'd have to be blind to miss how annoyed she was. Harry couldn't imagine it would feel _good _to be brushed aside so easily and replaced, but he didn't really know what she expected, either. Obviously they had to replace her. She was even well aware of and had even _met _the girl who was taking her spot. She hadn't seemed _too _upset by it, but maybe it was different when it was actually happening. Maybe when it was actually happening, it made her realize that it really was all over.

He felt bad. Awful, in fact. He knew she loved Quidditch, and even more than that, he knew she had real _talent. _She was already starting off with a successful career, but it came to an end almost as quickly as it had started. It wasn't fair. But what else were they supposed to do? She couldn't play Quidditch and be pregnant at the same time- it didn't work like that. And she could go back if she really wanted to- after the baby was born, of course. Maybe she could get her spot back next season. Or maybe she could get a spot on another team. One season off wasn't enough to ruin her whole career. At least he hoped it wasn't.

He made the mistake of telling her this.

"It's just one season, Gin. Next year, you can be back out there if you want."

This was a mistake, of course, because Ginny did not want to hear anything about next year apparently. Her eyes narrowed as she glared over at him. "Yeah, because every Quidditch team in the world is just _dying _for an infant mascot, aren't they? I'm sure nobody'll care if I've got a baby in the air with me. Not as long as I can still hold a broom, right?"

He didn't know what her problem was or why she was suddenly so bloody sarcastic. It kind of made him angry, and he was just tired enough to tell her so.

"Would it kill you to just _pretend _for one second that you're happy we're having a baby?"

Ginny, though, was having none of it. "_We _aren't having a baby, Harry. _I'm _having a baby. You're having a drink!"

That was it. He was over it. Well over it. He didn't care anymore at that point because she was really starting to wear on his nerves. He was stressed and tired and overworked, and the last thing he wanted to do at the moment was sit around and listen to her be a bitch. He hadn't done anything to her, and he wasn't going to sit there and let her force him into thinking that he had. So he downed the rest of his drink and sat the empty glass down on the end table. Without another word, he got up and calmly walked back to their bedroom. He grabbed his wand from the dresser and then Disapparated.

The flat he ended up in was much different from the rather large house he'd just left. It was small and crowded, and he only had to walk a few steps to find its occupant. Hermione was sitting cross-legged on her own sofa with a pile of books on the floor and one open in her lap. Her hair was piled up on top of her head, and she was chewing thoughtfully on the end of a quill.

She very much looked fifteen.

Of course, she was distracted when he arrived, and she looked up with a little bit of shock. Crookshanks was curled up beside her, but he merely lifted his eyes and sneered at Harry's arrival.

"What're you doing here?"

"I think I want a divorce." He fell gracelessly down onto the sofa beside her and looked down at the stack of books. They all appeared to be huge legal volumes. The thought alone immediately made him too bored to further investigate.

Hermione stopped what she was doing and looked over at him with raised eyebrows. "What happened?"

He shrugged, realizing fully just how bad of a mood he was really in. "Hell if I know."

"Did you have a fight?"

"We don't need to fight," he said seriously. "She's enough of a bitch to cause drama without a fight."

Hermione looked annoyed at that, and she let him know her feelings rather quickly. "Don't call her a bitch."

"Why not?"

"Well, she's your _wife _for one. It's very disrespectful."

He knew that, of course, but he was in such a foul mood that he didn't care. He also didn't enjoy the fact that Hermione was lecturing him like a child, but he hadn't really expected any different. She'd been lecturing him for ages.

"And maybe you should just go apologize for whatever you did because she's pregnant, so she's allowed to have not so nice moments."

"I didn't _do _anything!" He should have known Hermione would take Ginny's side. Girls always stuck together. It was extremely annoying. "I go to work all day long trying to make sure we've got everything, and I try all the time to make sure she's happy. But she just hates me all the time! I didn't even do anything to her!"

"Did you just leave work? You should go home and talk to her."

"I _did _go home!" He wanted to shake Hermione. "I tried to say something nice, she got angry for _no _reason, I finally got sick of it, so I left."

"You left and came here?"

Where the hell did she think he was? Was she not looking straight at him?

"You can't do that, Harry," she said seriously.

"Do what?"

"You can't just… get in a fight with your wife and then go to another girl's house. That's not appropriate."

Appropriate? Was she serious?

"It's not like I went to a _real _girl's house. It's _you."_

The sour look on his face let him know that he'd once again managed to stick his foot straight down his own mouth. He was really full of it today. Every woman he knew was on the verge of hexing him.

"Gee, thanks," she said sardonically.

"You know that's not what I meant," he said dismissively. "I just mean… Well, it's _you."_

"And what exactly _does _that mean?" she challenged fiercely.

He had to tread carefully there because Hermione was really smart and powerful, and she could probably hex his balls off with very precise aim if she wanted to.

"It would be like if you and Ron got in a fight, and he went to talk to Ginny."

He thought it was a very fitting analogy, but Hermione looked at him like he was an idiot for a second before rolling her eyes and shaking her head. "No, Harry. It would not." He started to protest, but she cut him off. "As close as we may be, we're _not _siblings. So, no, it's not the same thing."

"Well, Ginny doesn't care anyway. She's probably just glad I'm gone!"

"You're _married," _Hermione said slowly, and he was reminded of someone speaking to a stupid toddler. "You have to be a _grown up _now."

He preferred her when she was depressed.

Ron had been home a few weeks ago, but he was gone again. Hermione didn't seem to be taking it as roughly this time. Perhaps because she now knew she could survive until she saw him again. Or maybe she was just holding out dim hope that he'd show up and surprise her once again. Regardless, her mood had been much better this time around her.

He wished she'd go back to moping.

"I'm working thirteen fucking hours a day!" he protested loudly, surprising even himself. He lowered his voice quickly when he realized how instantly out of control it'd gotten. "I just don't know why she has to hate everything I do when I really _am _trying."

"She doesn't hate everything you do, Harry." Hermione rolled her eyes again. "She's _pregnant. _She's tired and she's big and she's miserable! Just let her have her moments and just deal with it. She's got a lot going on right now."

He didn't think this was exactly fair, as he felt that he himself had plenty going on. He was working himself to death, and sometimes he couldn't even remember why. He knew that baby was his responsibility, but he couldn't help resenting it a little bit because it was changing everything, and he wasn't really sure he _wanted _all that change. In a matter of months, he'd turned into a husband and a homeowner and a workaholic and was soon going to add dad to that list. It was a lot to deal with, but no one seemed to care how _he _was handling any of it.

But he wasn't the one with the ever-expanding belly, so he obviously didn't matter.

* * *

A/N: Thanks to everyone who took a few seconds to review last time! Means a lot! Sorry this one took a little while, but I got distracted by all those little onesies that had to be written before this one could! Check them out if you get a chance.


	28. Mendng Memories

**BACK TO THE BEGINNING**

**Chapter 28**

**MENDING MEMORIES**

* * *

Ginny felt bad.

Really, truly, she felt bad. She knew she was being a huge bitch, and she didn't even know why. Everything inside of her seemed to just be building up, and it got to a point where everything just seemed to explode. She didn't know why. She didn't even know why she had all that building up inside of her in the first place. It wasn't as if she had a _terrible _life or anything.

She just didn't feel well.

She was tired all the time. She was achy. She was _fat. _Everyone in the world told her that pregnant didn't equal fat, but that was easy for all of them to say when they weren't the ones unable to sleep at night because no matter which way they rolled, there was a huge gigantic belly in the way! She was just so _uncomfortable, _and nothing she did seemed to help change any of that. But she knew it still didn't give her the right to be such a bitch.

After Harry left, she went through about thirty minutes of being so angry she couldn't see straight. During that time period, she tried to remember every horrible hex she'd ever heard of and made a mental list of all the ones she was going to use on her husband when he finally showed back up. She didn't know where he was, but she was willing to bet he'd run off to some pub or something to finish getting drunk. _She'd _like to get drunk, but that wasn't really possible, seeing as how the kid trapped in her belly would probably show up deformed or something. She had a feeling his life was going to be fucked up enough as it was- she didn't want to make it worse by making him ugly.

Thirty minutes later, though, she calmed down.

She was being completely irrational, and she knew it. She didn't even know why. It wasn't as if she really _planned _it that way. She didn't wake up that morning and thing… _Oh, hey, I'm going to be a ginmormous bitch today to the one person who actually cares about me the most. _And he did, she knew, care about her the most. She'd known that for ages, of course, but that didn't seem to matter when it came to throwing huge massive fits. Maybe she was going crazy. Or maybe she just knew that Harry really _did _care about her that much, so he would sit there and take it if she needed to scream at someone. Of course, she hadn't expected him to call her on it, either.

He wasn't really one to invite conflict. For as long as she'd known him, she couldn't really remember too many arguments she'd ever had with him. He could be moody, of course, but he wasn't really one to fight back or anything like that. She always thought that maybe he'd had enough of fighting back against important things to last any person a lifetime, so he chose to simply ignore the insignificant arguments. Or maybe she just thought he was too nice. She had a temper, and she knew it. She'd had it for her whole life, and any of her brothers or friends would tell you that she could be quite mean when she wanted to be. Harry, though, probably _wouldn't _say that. But maybe she'd just pushed him too far.

The honest truth was that she was sick of just about every other person on the planet, but the only one she had to bounce any of it off of was Harry. Hermione was the only other person she really trusted, but apparently Hermione had decided to become her mum instead of her mate. Whenever she went to her and tried to complain about Harry, Hermione told her to stop whining and to appreciate everything Harry was trying to do for her. She didn't love hearing that sort of "advice" when she was really just looking for a male-bashing partner, but she'd grown used to it. Apparently Hermione was going to side with Harry on everything. It was annoying.

But when all the other people were fawning over her and telling her how "cute" she was, Ginny was growing more and more sick of them all the time. She couldn't be rude, though, especially to the random people who came up to her on the street and wanted to touch her belly or aww over how "adorable" it was. She couldn't tell all the people who stupidly exclaimed, _"Oh, my god, you're huge!" _that they were all rude bastards. She always had to force a smile and pretend to be thankful and gracious. She was in the public eye, and she knew it. She'd lost her temper a few times with the media, but she knew better than to overdo it. People were scrutinizing her every move and, she felt, just _waiting _for her to make some major fuck up or something. So she had to be nice.

But with Harry… she didn't have to be nice. She could complain to him and whine to him and take out all her frustration with all the other idiots in her life on him. It wasn't fair, but she didn't think he really minded. Not that much anyway. After all, he never told her to fuck off or told her to shut up and get over it. He'd just sit there and would rarely say anything at all. But apparently something had changed. She didn't know what, but he certainly hadn't just sat there and said nothing that night. That night, he snapped back.

And then he left.

After a half hour or so of being angry, she decided to revaluate the situation and think about the _reason _he left. She knew it was because she was being unfair and taking advantage of his niceness. She felt bad. So she sat down on the sofa, turned the radio off all the bloody Quidditch talk, and waited for him to return.

She waited for more than three hours before he finally showed back up. He looked surprised to see her waiting up when he returned, and she didn't miss the annoyed look on his face as he saw her. Maybe he wished she was already in bed or off on some escapist journey of her own. Whatever he wished, it wasn't that she would be up in the sitting room waiting for him.

Knowing all of that, she stood up and said it anyway.

"I'm sorry."

He just looked at her. She could tell by his expression that he hadn't been expecting an apology. She was sure he'd imagined another round of their previous blowout, but she wasn't going to go that route. For once, she was going to be mature and rational.

"For what?" He wasn't playing one of those mind games with her, but it still annoyed her a bit that he would ask her that. She was determined to make things right, though, so she answered him.

"For picking that fight. It was pointless."

"I didn't mean to make you mad when I said that about the Quidditch-"

"I know," she cut him off. "I'm just in a bad mood. Hearing that on the radio just made it worse."

"I was telling the truth, though." His voice was softer. He wasn't so angry anymore. "If you want to go back to Quidditch… You're _amazing_, Ginny. They'll take you back in a heartbeat."

It was sweet, but Ginny also knew it wasn't true. Even if she _could _get a spot back (and honestly, as big as she currently was, she couldn't even fathom being back in appropriate shape…), she knew she wouldn't be able to manage a sports career and a new baby at the same time. She had plenty of nieces and nephews, and she knew that babies were pretty much a full-time job. So she knew that no matter how talented she was, her life was now going to be about the baby and being a mum.

She didn't necessarily think it was a horrible thing.

"I _am _happy about the baby," she said firmly, ignoring his comment and touching back to a remark he'd made during their initial argument. He'd accused her of not even _pretending _to be happy, and she hadn't really thought about it until just then. If _he _saw it that way, she wondered how other people looked at her. She was horrified to think that people might assume she was resentful or angry over her pregnancy when, really, she wasn't at all. Originally, she was a bit shocked, of course, but she'd grown used to the idea. She was excited to be a mum. She was just tired.

The look on his face let her know that he felt bad for making the comment in the first place. She didn't think he should feel guilty, but he had a tendency to feel that way about a lot of things he shouldn't. "I shouldn't have said that," he said quietly, and his eyes dropped to the floor for a second. "I know you're happy."

She sat back down on the sofa, feeling both physically and emotionally drained. She hadn't spent the evening in tears, despite the fact that they'd just had what was probably their first "real" fight as a married couple. But her eyes still burned, and her head still hurt. He sat down beside her, and she decided he didn't smell at all like a pub.

"Where'd you go?"

She noticed that he hesitated for a split second before answering. "To Hermione's."

It bothered her just a tiny bit that he'd run off after their fight and gone straight there. It wasn't that she thought there was anything at all going on or anything like that- she wouldn't have felt any different if Ron had been there, too. It just reiterated what she already knew. Those three were a trio, and she was not a real part of that. They'd always been together and run to each other with all their problems. She didn't think that would ever change, but she still felt left out occasionally.

"She told me to come home, shut up, and deal with it." His voice was sort of dull as he looked over at her through heavy lids.

She bit back a tiny smile and shook her head. "That's what she always tells me. I think she's playing us against each other."

"Probably."

He sounded as tired as she felt. It made her feel horrible. "Harry, I'm sorry," she said again, this time a little bit more forcibly. "I know everything you're doing, and I appreciate it. I really do. And I'm sorry if I don't say that enough." She swallowed and looked down at the small bit of her lap that she could still see. "I know I've been really selfish lately, and I don't even know why…"

"You're not selfish, Ginny." He was looking at her seriously, and it made her feel even worse. Sometimes she hated how nice he was. "I know this isn't the way you planned things…"

She loved him. She'd always loved him. When she was a little girl, he made her tongue-tied and flustered in a way none of her other brother's friends ever did. Of course, none of her other brothers had any famous friends, either. She was mesmerized by him and let herself get caught up in all sorts of stupid little schoolgirl fantasies that eventually (literally) possessed her. After that, she tried to stop liking him so much. It was embarrassing and made her feel foolish because he barely even acknowledged her most of the time. He was never mean to her or anything like that, but it wasn't as if he ever sought her out for conversation. He'd smile at her in the corridors sometimes, and what he probably just saw as a necessary and polite gesture to his best mate's little sister would make her go completely stupid again. One little smile like that would turn her into a mumbling idiot for hours.

But then she decided to change.

Boys liked her, and once she realized that, she dove in headfirst. It was much easier to forget about a boy who barely spoke to her when there were several boys bending over backwards to do anything for her. Besides, she wasn't blind. She could see that Harry liked someone else anyway- someone older and smarter and prettier. Someone who he definitely didn't look at as a little sister. Someone whose mum _didn't _fold his underpants during the summer hols. So she stopped obsessing over him and started paying attention to all the boys who were willing to make idiots of themselves to garner just a bit of that attention. She had several boyfriends- sometimes she'd pick up a new one before she'd managed to fully dump the last one. It wasn't difficult to stay occupied because she realized that she was actually quite popular with the male population of Hogwarts. She didn't know _how _exactly, but she certainly didn't mind. She stopped paying much attention to what Harry did. He hardly paid attention to her at all, and she stopped caring if he did.

But then he started liking her.

She could tell. By that time, she'd seen plenty of boys who liked her. She knew the way they acted, and she knew the way their eyes fell to certain places on her body in what they always, _always _assumed was a completely oblivious sort of way. It never was. But Harry wanted her, she could tell, and she took a bit of sick pleasure in that fact. It was horribly satisfying to know that for once _he _was the one obsessing over _her. _And, of course, she made certain to make herself completely unavailable. She was dating someone else when she first started noticing his newfound interest- one of his _roommates, _in fact, which, of course, only made it better. She wanted him to sweat it out a little bit, so she did what any normal fifteen year old would do. She threw her unavailability into his face at every opportunity.

But then, of course, they _did _get together. She decided that she was done playing games with him, and she immediately fell in love. She wasn't sure how she knew so certainly that it was love, as she was, after all, just a kid, but she'd never felt like that with or about any of the other boys. She would have given him everything in the world if he had just asked for it. But he never did ask for it. He was always too scared or too nice or too distracted to push even as much as the other boys. That sort of made her love him even more, though she never had enough courage to tell him.

But she always knew she wouldn't get to keep him.

They didn't have long- just a couple of months maybe. They were amazing, and she loved every second of them. But she always knew it wouldn't last. She'd waited forever on him, and she knew from the beginning that she wouldn't get to keep him. She didn't know then that he would be running off the next year, hiding out and searching the world for Horcruxes. She didn't even know what a Horcrux _was. _But she knew that even if he was in her home, even if they were in school together, even if they saw each other every single day… he would eventually break up with her. And he did. That's the sort of person Harry was. He didn't do it to hurt her, though it hurt more than she could ever possibly imagine- he did it to _protect _her. He thought he was being noble and doing it for her and all that, but he was horribly blind when he wanted to be. He seemed to think that if she wasn't his girlfriend, she'd be less likely to be targeted. He thought he was keeping her out of danger, but she was already in danger. Her whole family was in danger. The whole _world _was in danger. They didn't have to be miserable as well…

But he dumped her anyway. And she stood there and listened and didn't even cry. She felt her first real heartbreak, but she couldn't force herself into tears. At that point in her life, she felt tears were completely pointless and useless. You could either sit around and cry, or you could go do something. So when Harry left with Ron and Hermione, she decided to do just that. She went back to Hogwarts more reckless than she'd ever imagined. Death Eaters were in control, but she didn't care. She purposely put a target on her back, just to prove that she was in danger regardless. She could take care of herself. And that's how it carried on for the whole year.

Looking back, it was stupid. She was trying to prove something, but to whom? To Harry who thought dumping her would somehow keep her safe? To her family who still treated her like a child and thought that by forcing her out of the room during certain conversations she would somehow be completely oblivious to all the danger around them? To all the people at Hogwarts who looked at her strangely and either felt sorry for or took satisfaction in the fact that her boyfriend dumped her and ran off without her because he didn't think she was capable enough to join him? They were all stupid reasons. But it didn't matter what she was trying to prove, she proved it to herself. Proved that she was more than capable enough of handling herself, even if she did have to go about it in the dumbest way possible…

But then it was all over.

The war was over and Fred was dead and Harry was back. Those first few weeks seemed to go by in a daze, and nothing at all was normal. Her family was broken, and everywhere she looked, all she saw as grief. And then there was Harry who had nowhere else to go, and he was just _damaged. _They were all damaged- all had their own scars- but his were the deepest and the most, both physically and mentally. And she didn't know what to do for him. Most everyone reached out to him, but he never liked attention. But Ron and Hermione ignored him nearly completely- they started ignoring _everyone _except each other. And Harry didn't really want to talk to anyone else.

But he talked to her.

He didn't really have a choice, seeing as how he was all but kicked out of Ron's room and had to hide out _somewhere_. She let him stay in her room, and it was a lot less weird than she might have imagined. They didn't fall straight back into their old relationship, they just spent a lot of time getting to _know_ each other. He made her smile in a way that nothing else really could back then, and he didn't coddle her or try to force her into talking about Fred or any of the rest of it. She paid him the same respect and never pushed him to talk about anything he didn't want to. But he would open up occasionally and tell her things that he wouldn't tell anyone else. And she'd listen, but she'd never make a big deal about it. He didn't want her to, either; he just wanted to say it out loud.

She blamed alcohol for the loss of her virginity. Alcohol and hormones and pent-up sexual tension and "I'm in love with you," of course. But mostly alcohol. It was the best excuse out of the others because giving in to any of the other ones would make her someone of a slag. If she was drunk, she wasn't in control of her actions and, therefore, not to blame for making such a huge, rash decision on the spur of the moment. It wasn't her fault that she had sex with a boy who wasn't even her boyfriend.

While, she would have done it anyway when he _was _her boyfriend, she felt a little guilty doing it when he was not. After all, she'd never done it with any of the other boys who had pushed for it in the past. They'd all given her compliments and sweet-talked her and Michael Corner even told her he loved her… But she never let any of them get that far. She let them touch her sometimes, and sometimes she did things that would make her mother disown her, she was positive. But she never did _everything. _Not until that night anyway. That night, they sat on her bedroom floor with a bottle of firewhiskey she'd nicked from one of the ten or so cases George had hidden in his room. They got drunk, and she started kissing him. She made that first move, and she would't deny it. She'd wanted to kiss him all summer, but it had never been the right time. Apparently, though, he wanted to kiss her back because he made no move whatsoever to stop her. And with his back leaned against the wall, she wanted to be even closer to him, so she moved until she was right on top of him, literally climbing into his lap and trapping him from any sort of escape he might come to realize he wanted. It certainly wasn't their first kiss, but it was the first time she'd ever felt like _that. _It was the first time she'd ever felt like _that _with _anyone_. It seemed to carry on for ages, and even though she wanted to, she couldn't physically get any closer to him than she already was.

Then he broke the kiss for maybe three seconds and stared at her dazedly as a hand fell down the side of her hair. And then he said it. "I'm in love with you…"

It was more a mumble, really, than an actual statement, but she heard it loud and clear. She felt her heart stop for a second, and even through the haze of the alcohol, she could tell that her head was swimming for a whole new reason. And she knew she was a lost cause after that. It was all over, and she'd been waiting on him for too damn long. And so that's how they ended up doing everything they'd never done. And she blamed it on the alcohol.

It didn't matter, of course, because it was sort of perfect in its own fucked up little way. After that, they didn't have to go through the whole awkwardness of trying to get back together without jumping into things too quickly because they'd already jumped headfirst. He was her boyfriend again after that, and when she went back to Hogwarts less than two weeks later, she kissed him goodbye and told him she loved him. It wasn't a lie then, and it'd never been a lie since.

"I love you."

He looked at her when she said it, and she could tell he was a little surprised. Apparently this was not the aftermath to the fight he'd expected. But she didn't want to fight with him. All she wanted to do was love him and listen to him tell her all about his day because she knew he'd worked too many hours and was stressed and exhausted and might want to talk about it.

She scooted closer to him on the sofa. She wanted to climb into his lap just like she had that first night all those years before, but she was twenty pounds heavier than normal and thought she'd probably crush him to death if she tried. He seemed to read her mind, though, and didn't seem bothered by the extra weight because he took her hand and pulled her to him. She let him and relaxed against him, not bothered by his touch for the first time in a few weeks. She let her head fall sideways against his chest and looked down as one of his hands came to rest against her stomach.

And then she felt her heart speed up just a little bit when he said, "I love this baby so much."

In answer, the baby let out a rather heavy sort of kick. Harry looked over at her, and she smiled. He rarely got to feel the baby kick, and when he did, he always looked a little bit shocked.

"She can hear you," she said, nodding down at her stomach. He raised his eyebrows, and she took his hand and moved it to the side of her stomach where the baby was still moving. "You should talk to her."

He bent forward a little bit and lowered his head to whisper to the baby. He was trying to get it to kick him some more, she knew, and she thought it was so beautiful and sweet. Her eyes drifted shut just as she felt him lightly kiss her stomach. She didn't listen to whatever he was whispering and decided to let it be just between him and the baby. She didn't need to hear anyway because she already knew that he loved that baby and that he loved her, too. He was going to be an amazing dad, she was sure of it. This baby was going to be so lucky to have him, and she knew right then that she didn't regret any of it. Everything was going to work out just perfectly.

And for the first time in awhile, she let herself fantasize about the Happily Ever After she knew they'd get.

* * *

A/N: So there's a little bit of fluff to outset the drama! Thanks for the reviews, I love reading them!!


	29. Hopeful Highs

**BACK TO THE BEGINNING**

**Chapter 29**

**HOPEFUL HIGHS**

* * *

It was _cold _outside.

Hermione felt that it was much too chilly to simply be early November. The leaves hadn't even fully fallen from the trees, but judging by the wind, she completely expected to see snow falling from the sky. It was ridiculous. And she hated it.

She hated spending the night alone mostly. The flat was chilly, and her bed wasn't warm enough. The flat always got cold in the winter (and apparently the fall now, too), but she'd never had a problem falling asleep because Ron was always there to warm her up. He wasn't there now, though, and every single night, she felt like she might freeze to death. She missed the way he always cuddled her up and kept her warm. No amount of blankets could equal that.

As a consolation, though, she had much less desire to stay in bed in the mornings when she woke up. Since she was already freezing from the night, it made getting up and moving about rather easy. She was early to work nearly all the time now, something that came in handy as she moved forward with the various drafts on her House Elves law. She'd written the draft probably close to a hundred times already, but she just couldn't get it perfect enough. She was about to drive herself mad, but it served as a good distraction.

One morning, she found herself up so early that the Ministry was still practically deserted at the time she arrived. She didn't mind, though. Peace and quiet was never a bad thing, especially when it came to prime concentration. Plus, it was warm inside the Ministry, much warmer than her building and certainly warmer than the outdoors. So she didn't regret the early hour at all.

Because it was so early, she'd been forced to stop at a local street shop for her morning coffee, as the Ministry's canteen wouldn't be open for nearly two more hours. It was hot and soothing, just the way she liked it, and she carried it to the lift to head down to her department. She was alone on the lift, of course, but she was rather surprised when it stopped mid-trip and the doors opened up to reveal a very familiar face.

"Hermione! What on earth are you doing here so early?"

Mr. Weasley laughed as he stepped into the lift to join her. He was dressed for the cold weather in a long woolly sweater that his wife had no doubt knitted him and a pair of faded gray trousers. She was surprised to see him dressed so casually, as he normally always dressed in business attire for the office. She was also surprised to see him at work so early as well.

"Working on my drafts for the Act," she said, sighing a little bit as she let her head fall back against the wall. She was still in her outerwear, one hand holding her coffee and the other holding her bag. "You?"

"Had to come in early so I can get off early." He shrugged a little. "We're keeping the girls tonight, and I think Molly wants to take them for dinner in the village."

The girls, Hermione knew, were Victoire and Dominique. Everyone referred to them as "the girls," despite the fact that Percy also had a set of girls- they were referred to as Molly and Lucy. Hermione hid a smile, though, as she thought of the last time she'd babysat the girls and said, "I hope you haven't got anything romantic planned."

Mr. Weasley raised an eyebrow at her but said nothing. Instead, he just smiled teasingly. "Romance left our house around the third or fourth kid."

Hermione knew this was not true, as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley loved each other more than any two people she'd ever seen, and they were still romantic and sweet with each other even as grandparents. She didn't point this out, though. Instead, she just put on her own sort of teasing smile and said, "Well, it's a good thing I only want two then."

"Two, huh?" She nodded. "Well, you might want to get started on that, don't you think?" A tiny bell pinged, and the lift doors opened to her floor. He followed her out into the corridor. "Only get married first, please, and save dear old Mum from another heart attack."

Hermione laughed and shook her head, knowing he was joking but also knowing it was the truth. "Dear old Mum," as he referred to her, was finally coming around to the idea of a new grandchild now that Harry and Ginny had been properly married for several months.

"Well, _maybe _if your son wasn't waiting on the end of the _world _apparently, I'd already be halfway there."

They reached her department, which was completely empty, and she started setting her things down on her desk. Mr. Weasley took it upon himself to help her with her coat and then help himself to a chair. She laughed a little bit.

"Where were you going anyway?"

"I was headed up for some coffee myself, but obviously I was distracted and decided to spend a moment or two with my favorite non-daughter-in-law."

He caught her eye and grinned, and Hermione rolled her own eyes dramatically.

"What's wrong with that boy anyway?"

He was speaking of Ron, and Hermione pretended to ponder for a moment. "Well… He never takes anything seriously. He's insensitive. He can be really immature when he wants to be. His temper is too quick. He refuses to pay attention to _anything _that might be construed as educational…"

"You know that's my son, right?"

She pretended to be shocked. "No, _really?!"_

"Born and raised."

"Then perhaps, you ought to beat some sense into him and tell him to hurry the hell up!"

"You can't beat sense into that kid." Mr. Weasley raised his eyebrows knowingly. "His mum tried for ages."

Hermione laughed and rolled her eyes.

"Actually," he went on, a bit more seriously, "I'm rather proud of that one."

"Me, too." Hermione bit back a smile.

"And proud of you, too," he went on, tapping the gigantic file she'd recently placed on her desk. It was full of various drafts, as she couldn't talk herself into throwing any of them away. "That's quite an accomplishment, you know?"

He was being serious now, and she sighed a little bit as she sat down. "It's a lot of work," she admitted. "Sometimes I can't even believe I'm willingly putting myself through this."

"Well, it's important," he said firmly. "And you believe in it. That makes it all worth it."

"Everyone else thinks it's stupid."

"It wouldn't have passed through committee if people thought it was stupid. And anyway, it doesn't matter what other people think. You know it's important, that's what matters."

"Sometimes I think it'd be easier just to give it up and go back to my normal work."

He shrugged one shoulder and shook his head a little. "But if you ever just gave up on anything, you wouldn't be you, now would you?"

"It's just really difficult."

"You started battling dark wizards when you were _twelve," _he said pointedly. "House Elves should be old hat."

He was teasing her, and she sort of loved him for it. He was great, really. She'd always loved him, always thought he was an amazing dad and a great person. Though she wasn't technically one of his kids, she felt like he was a second father, and she knew he really cared about her. Even though she knew Mrs. Weasley loved her, too, it had been sometimes difficult to remember over the past few years when she was constantly making snide, passive-aggressive remarks about what she considered a wholly inappropriate living situation. Mr. Weasley, though, didn't have the same issues with them that his wife did. He never nagged them or made pushy comments. She felt comfortable with him, like she could really be open and honest. She'd felt that way for a long time, and she really appreciated it. After all, she saw Ron's parents more than she even saw her own, so it was nice to have people who loved her and cared for her and truly wanted the best for her.

The Weasleys were always sort of a perfect family in her eyes. She knew, of course, that they had _plenty _of issues, and she knew that they'd never been particularly well-off or anything like that. She also knew that seven children was certainly not the norm, but she couldn't help being a bit jealous of Ron and all his siblings, as they always had someone to turn to no matter what. She was an only child, and she didn't have that same sort of security. Occasionally, she felt a bit jealous of the fact that she had no siblings of her own, and though Ron constantly assured her he would change places in a heartbeat, she knew he was never serious.

"Well, at least I've got plenty of free time now," she said, attempting to join in the lightened mood. "An empty house is an excellent way to avoid distraction."

"A bit boring, though, I imagine?"

He had no idea. She enjoyed spending time alone for a bit, as it really _did _provide an excellent environment to concentrate and focus. But there came a point when she was so bored and so lonely that she could hardly stand it.

"Sometimes, yeah."

"Well, you should come to dinner tonight. I'm not sure where we're taking the girls, but we can let you know."

Hermione contemplated the prospect of spending the evening with Ron's parents and Victoire and Dominique. She wasn't sure how lovely the idea sounded, but she didn't want to be rude.

"Maybe," she said, smiling gratefully. "I may work late, but yeah, let me know."

"Don't work _too _hard," he said, patting her hand and standing up. "You'll burn yourself out."

She felt as though she were maybe already burnt a bit out, but she didn't say this. Instead, she forced a smile on her face and nodded, waving goodbye as he left her department and headed back in the direction of the lift.

She felt terrible. She wasn't sure exactly why she felt so suddenly awful, but she figured that the entire conversation she'd just had with Mr. Weasley had done little but remind her that Ron was not there and that he wouldn't be there for awhile. She'd been doing better during this second time, but that was mostly because she was keeping herself drowning in work. She wasn't doing much of anything else, and she knew it. She hadn't see her parents in weeks, and she rarely even saw her friends, except for the random times they decided to pop up and complain about something. She was speaking, of course, about Ginny and Harry who had apparently decided she was supposed to be their personal therapist. This was an incorrect assumption for many reasons- the most obvious of which was that she had little patience for whining. And that was all either of them did.

They'd gone through several weeks where they whined constantly about each other. Ginny whined because Harry was never around. And Harry whined because Ginny never appreciated anything he did. Hermione got to the point where she simply told them both to shut up and stop nagging each other and get over it. Apparently it worked, though, because they no longer complained about each other. In fact, as far as she could tell, their relationship was the best it had been in months. No, now they whined about the fact that they were both so bloody exhausted. She had no sympathy for that, either. While Harry may have been working extra hours, he still was not working as many as she, and Ginny, while admittedly _extremely _pregnant and about triple her normal size, was rarely required to do more than move from the sofa to the loo. So Hermione had little sympathy for either of them when they both told her how tired and exhausted and drained they were.

She decided not to dwell on it as she opened up her files and started arranging the paperwork around on her desk in a way that would give her the most effective means of workspace. She glanced at the clock and saw that it was still probably too early for the rest of her department to start arriving, and for that, she was thankful. Things weren't any better on that end- she'd just got better at ignoring it. The majority of her teammates still seemed to despise her and, as a rule, chose only to speak to her as a means of delivering some new insult or accusation regarding the relative success of her work. It was getting extremely tiring, and Hermione was closer every day to actually quitting her job and looking for work elsewhere. Of course, she knew that was illogical and not the smartest move in the world, so she chose instead to just ignore them to the best of her ability.

She went to work on her latest draft and got in close to an hour's worth of work before she was interrupted. She heard footsteps approaching and braced herself for whatever awful member of her department had decided to get out of bed at a halfway decent hour and actually show up for work. She kept her eyes trained on her work in an effort to ignore whoever was joining her.

It didn't work.

"Hey."

It was a simple, one word greeting, but the voice was familiar enough to make Hermione stop trying to feign deafness and look up instead. Harry was looking at her expectantly, obviously waiting on her to reply. She didn't know what he was doing down here, especially this early, but she didn't ask, either.

"What's up?"

"I figured you'd already be here," he said, glancing down at her paperwork. "You should probably take a break once in awhile, you know?"

"There's no time for a break," she said pointedly. "This has to be submitted, and I haven't got a single person willing to help because, if you haven't noticed, everyone in this whole place hates me."

"Just in this department." She looked up at him sharply and with narrowed eyes. He smiled sheepishly and sat down in the chair recently abandoned by Mr. Weasley.

"Did you need something, Harry?"

"Yeah, actually. I wanted to see if you wanted to come over tonight."

"For what?"

"For dinner. And just to hang out."

She tried to imagine which would be the least annoying- spending another night alone working on her drafts, going to a restaurant and watching Mr. and Mrs. Weasley try to control Victoire and Dominique during dinner, or going to Harry and Ginny's and listen to them complain about everything in the world while she had to work extra hard to control her wand hand from hexing them of its own accord.

"I'm not sure."

"Well, Ginny wants you to come. She's already planned out a meal and everything. Besides, what else have you got to do?"

She thought about telling him her other options but decided she was too tired and that it wasn't worth it. Instead, she decided to just sigh a little bit and raise a shoulder. "Fine. What time?"

"Well, try to control your excitement there just a bit." She seriously wanted to hex him. He obviously realized that she wasn't in the mood for teasing, though, because he answered her question straight away after that. "About seven."

So that's how she ended up at dinner with Harry and Ginny that night. She was extremely tired, but she figured that she should at least make an effort at socializing, as she'd been relatively absent for the past several weeks. Besides, she didn't want to be rude, especially if Ginny was going to the trouble of actually cooking a meal and all that. And really, she didn't have anything better to do. She'd politely declined Mr. Weasley's offer when he showed back up later that evening to tell her the dinner plans. He'd just smiled and invited her for the weekend instead.

The dinner was actually really good. Ginny wasn't a bad cook at all, and despite the fact that she was apparently _so tired, _she still seemingly had enough energy to prepare a decent meal. It was much better than anything Hermione herself could do, as she wasn't, by anyone's count, a great cook. It didn't matter, though. She hadn't starved to death yet, and she didn't foresee doing so in her future, either. She was accustomed to her own food, so she rarely noticed when it was awful anymore. That didn't mean she couldn't appreciate excellence when she tasted it, and Ginny had apparently inherited her mum's ability to prepare very appetizing meals.

They ate slowly, laughing and exchanging stories. It was a very normal sort of evening, but not one that Hermione had experienced lately. She'd been so stressed that she hadn't even realized how desperate she was for a break and a bit of relaxation until she got it there. It took her mind off of everything- off of how much she missed Ron and off of how stressed out she was by work and all the impending deadlines in front of her. It was fun to just relax and enjoy the evening with her friends. And by dessert, she found herself in a much better mood than she'd previously been in.

"Hermione, we have something we want to ask you."

It was Ginny who said it, and Hermione stopped picking at her cake long enough to look up and see that Ginny looked rather nervous about whatever she was about to say next. Hermione couldn't possibly imagine what it was, and she raised her eyebrows questioningly. She didn't know whether to be wary of whatever she was about to be asked or excited. It was hard to tell with the look Ginny was currently giving her. She glanced over at Harry, but she couldn't tell anything by his expression, either. Finally, Ginny went on.

"We were going to wait until Ron got here, but we didn't know if we'd even see him. Last time he was here, it was sort of hard to get him out of the house…"

Hermione knew perfectly well what she was hinting at, and she was determined not to show any sort of reaction whatsoever. She kept her face very neutral and just waited silently for Ginny to continue.

"But we wanted to know," Ginny smiled here and drew in a quick breath, "if you'd be godmother to the baby."

Hermione was shocked. She hadn't expected that. She supposed that if she'd thought about it, she might have predicted it, but it wasn't something that had really crossed her mind. She didn't even know what to say, and she looked on at them in shock.

"Really?" she asked quietly.

"And Ron, too," Harry broke in. Ginny looked amused and shook her head.

"We don't want him to be godmother. But… you know."

Hermione couldn't believe how flattered she was. She smiled widely just thinking about being a godmother and getting to spoil a little baby senseless. She enjoyed all the nieces and nephews in the family, but she knew it would be completely different if she was actually a godmother. That was incredibly special and important, and she couldn't hide her happiness at the thought.

"I'd love to!" she said excitedly. "And Ron will, too. Yes, of course!"

Both Ginny and Harry looked relieved and happy, as though they'd been partially afraid that she would somehow turn them down. Of course she wouldn't, and they both knew that, but she imagined that hearing it confirmed was somewhat of a relief.

"Thank you _so _much," Ginny said seriously. "I was sort of worried you wouldn't want to…"

"Why in the world would you think that?"

"Well, I know how busy you are. And I didn't know if you'd want to be bothered. It's a big responsibility."

"But it's so much fun," Harry interjected. He was speaking, of course, as the only godparent currently in attendance. She knew how much he loved Teddy, though, and she was excited to get to love a kid in the same way.

"Of course I want to," she said, shaking her head. "I can't wait!"

"You can tell Ron if you want," Harry said. "Or if you'd rather us just wait and ask him to be on the safe side… It doesn't matter."

"He'll say yes, too," she said without hesitation. "I'll tell him if you want. He'll be so excited!"

And she knew he would be. They would both be crazy over that kid, and she knew it. There was just a month left before the baby was born, and she found that she suddenly couldn't wait to meet the little one. She had so much she needed to do now, so much she needed to buy and prepare. She couldn't wait to meet her godchild.

And judging from the elated looks on Harry and Ginny's face, she knew they couldn't wait to meet the baby, either.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading!!


	30. Siblings and Spew

**BACK TO THE BEGINNING**

**Chapter 30**

**SIBLINGS AND SPEW**

* * *

Ron stayed for the second session review.

It wasn't mandatory, and he didn't particularly feel as though he needed it. He wanted to go home right away and spend as much time as possible there because he felt he'd been gone entirely too long. But Hermione told him to stay and study. He wasn't surprised in the least, as she sort of lived for telling people to study. She hadn't had the opportunity in several years, so it probably gave her some sort of great enjoyment to get back to doing what she'd always done best- nagging people about studying. Ron thought briefly about leaving anyway, but he didn't figure he should really risk it. After all, she hadn't cared the first time he skipped out on it, but it wasn't her birthday this time and there were no other good excuses for him to skip out this time. He had a feeling she wouldn't be too pleased if he went against her advice and just came home early anyway. Sometimes it was much easier just to let her tell him what to do.

He was actually glad that he stayed, though. The review helped him quite a bit, and he was able to brush up on several of the skills they'd covered earlier that had slipped to the back of his mind and almost disappeared. He didn't figure that'd be entirely too productive when they got to end of training and he was complete bollocks at all they'd been taught. So maybe it was good that he had an ever-present nagging voice at the back of his head, a voice that would never go away no matter what. It was secretly a bit endearing anyway, so he didn't actually mind all that much.

But he got to the end of the review session and into his late November break quickly enough.

Things at home were mostly exactly as he'd left them. Hermione was still working ungodly hours and throwing every single ounce of concentration and effort she possessed into various drafts of her Act. He hadn't realized how long of a process getting something made into law was, considering the fact that just a few years ago, the Ministry seemed perfectly capable of making up and effecting new laws seemingly overnight. Of course, the Ministry was a lot different then and a lot more corrupt, so perhaps the _new _Ministry actually cared about doing things _properly. _Either way, though, it seemed to be taking forever for all of this to come to fruition. He had a feeling that Hermione might just fall straight over soon enough because he could tell she was overworked and wasn't getting anywhere near enough rest.

When he first got home, she was all smiles for about an hour. It was early in the morning, and she was just up. She was nice to him and sweet to him and let him take her clothes off rather quickly. But it was all very short-lived. Whereas last time he'd come home, she had been reluctant to even let him out of her sight, this time, she was back to business within the hour. He'd barely even got settled in before she was back up, putting on work clothes, and tying her hair up. He was confused and also rather put out, and he told her so.

"Really? You've got to go to work, and I _just _got here?"

She disappeared into the closet to find her shoes. "I can't lose my job, Ron," she said rather stiffly. "I'll be back this afternoon, but I've got a million things that need to be done. And I'm already late as it is."

He glanced at the clock as she said this and saw that it was still before nine o'clock. He didn't know what her definition of _late _was, but his certainly wasn't 8:39 AM. She came back out, now completely dressed and shoes on her feet.

"You could skip one day," he said irritably.

Hermione, though, did not seem to agree, and she fixed him with a very familiar look. "Oh, sure," she answered sarcastically. "I could skip one day. And then I could be _fired _and lose every bit of income I've got. Do you think what they're paying you right now is enough to even cover the rent here? Well, trust me, it's not. So sure, I skip one day, lose my job, then we get evicted, and I have to go live on the streets and give Crookshanks to an animal shelter because I won't be able to keep him in the box I'll be living in!"

He looked at her and said nothing. She probably rightly guessed that he was thinking that the whole animal shelter thing wasn't that awful of an idea. Or maybe she just realized that she was a crazy person because a second later, her face fell a little bit, and she mumbled an apology.

"Sorry… I'm just really stressed out."

"I wouldn't have guessed…"

She frowned at him, but he just gave her a little smile and held out a hand. She took it even though he could tell she was positive she was going to make herself even later. He didn't hesitate, though, in pulling her back over to him until she fell down into his lap with her back to his chest. He felt her let out a breath she'd obviously been holding in and relax just a little bit.

"You shouldn't keep yourself so stressed," he told her, playing with the fingers of her hand that he was still holding. He let his other hand rest on her knee.

"I can't help it," she said, and she sounded just a little bit desperate. "There's so much to do, and _no one _will help me. And if I don't help all of _them _with their work, then I'm just proving them right, aren't? That I'm just in this for myself and that I don't care about the team and everything else they say. So I have to do all of _that _as well as everything for my own Act, and I haven't got even a bit of time to relax. The baby will be here any day now, and I haven't even bought it anything or done anything to help at all, and we're supposed to be its godparents! So how awful is that I haven't even bought a single outfit yet because one, I haven't had the time, and two, I haven't even really got the money!"

She was speaking so quickly that he wouldn't have been able to understand her if he wasn't well-accustomed to hearing her mental tangents. As it were, though, he was _quite _accustomed to it and could understand her easily. He let go of her hand and wrapped both of his arms around her waist from behind. She relaxed into him, and he let his chin fall onto her shoulder.

"The baby's got _plenty _of clothes, I'm sure," he said seriously. "We don't have to buy it a ton of things just to be good godparents."

Truthfully, he wasn't sure how that all worked. When Hermione wrote him a few weeks before and told him that Harry and Ginny had asked them to be godparents, he'd been really excited. He was already excited, of course, because even though he already had quite a few nieces and a nephew, this one was Harry and Ginny's, which made it different anyway. But the fact that he was officially going to be a godfather made him even more eager. Truthfully, though, he wasn't sure what all the role of godfather encompassed. Harry was Teddy's godfather, and he had him over for weekends and bought him things and taught him how to fly and all of that. But Teddy was an orphan, and the new baby would have two live parents. So he wasn't sure how involved he was supposed to be or was expected to be. He hadn't even _thought _about whether he was required to purchase a ton of gifts for the baby. Apparently, though, Hermione was stressing over _that _as well.

"I just feel like I'm not doing enough, but I haven't got enough hours in the day to do everything that needs to be done!"

"You need a break," he told her seriously, tilting his head a little to the side so that he could lightly kiss her ear.

"I haven't got time to take a break," she said quietly. He sighed rather loudly right into her ear, and she sat up a bit straighter. "I'm sorry. I promise I'll be back as soon as I can."

He said nothing, but she turned her head and kissed him quickly. Her eyes were watering, and he could tell that she was on the verge of tears, though he had no idea why.

"Why are you crying?"

"I'm not." She stood up quickly, wiping the edge of her eyes with the heel of her hand. He followed her and stood up as well, grabbing her arm before she could escape. She tried to tug away, but he was a lot stronger than her. He used his grip on her arm to pull her back to him, and his free hand gripped her chin and forced her to look up at him. Her eyes were watering again, and a second later, she broke completely and started crying.

"What's wrong?" he asked, now seriously concerned. She didn't answer, just finally gave up and hid her face in his chest. He hugged her, but it was sort of hard to comfort her when he didn't even have a clue as to what was causing her tears. "You okay?"

"I don't even know what's wrong," she mumbled, and had to strain his ears just to hear her. "I'm just tired… And I'm so stressed out with work and… I just… I don't know. You just got here, and I'm already shouting at you!"

"That's unusual?"

She leaned back and looked up at him crossly. He couldn't help smiling.

"It's going to be okay," he told her. "You just need to relax a little."

"I can't." She let out a very uneven breath, and wiped at the tears that were slowing. "I wish I could just stay here with you all day."

"So do it."

"I _can't." _She wiped her eyes again and pulled all the way away, composing herself. "I have to go to work. But I'll be back as soon as I can."

He knew trying to change her mind was pointless. She was going to go whether she needed to or not. Him pointing out that she would likely to fall asleep at her desk wouldn't do anything but annoy her. So he kissed her goodbye and let her go. He took his time getting ready for the day, enjoying the warm shower immensely and filling up on an actual decent breakfast for once. When he was finished with all of that, though, he realized that he had absolutely nothing to do. He wasn't used to that, as he was normally scheduled minute by minute from the time he woke up until the time he went to bed. Having _nothing _to do was certainly different.

He thought briefly about going to visit his mother, as she'd written him a very pointed letter that let him know in no uncertain terms that he _would _be visiting her on his break. He knew if he went now, though, that he'd be the only other person in the house, and she would use the opportunity to guilt him into staying for hours. He decided that he would rather wait until the weekend when he could take Hermione with him to a family dinner and have plenty of outs should he start getting restless.

And so that's how he ended up spending the day with his sister instead.

He'd gone to her house thinking maybe he'd catch Harry there, but apparently he was following the same work nonstop sort of philosophy that Hermione was following. He wasn't all that surprised really- he was more surprised by Ginny who looked as if she were literally going to explode at any second. He'd seen his brothers' wives get huge while pregnant, but he didn't think any of them had got to the point where Ginny currently was. Maybe they had, and he just hadn't noticed as much because he saw them regularly. He hadn't seen Ginny for two months, and in those two months, she'd gone from visibly pregnant to flat out _huge._

He had enough sense not to say this.

He actually had fun hanging out with her, something he couldn't remember really happening in the past. Maybe he'd never given her a chance. Or maybe she'd just stopped being a brat now that she was close to seven-hundred pounds and about to pop a kid out. Either way, she was a lot less annoying than he'd ever found her before, and he couldn't believe how quickly time passed while catching up with her.

"Baby's almost here." He said it knowing, of course, that she was fully aware that the baby was almost there.

"Yeah, two weeks." She looked rather pale at the thought.

"You excited?"

"More like terrified." She was lying on the sofa with three pillows under her back. Ron figured this was so she could see over her stomach, which was roughly the size of a small building. Again, he didn't say this.

"It won't be so bad. I mean, how hard can it be? You get the kid, feed him some vegetables, teach him how to fly, and then turn him into a Quidditch player. That's really all you've got to do."

"First of all," Ginny said slowly, struggling to sit up straighter, "your _he _is a _she. _And second of all, there's a bit more to it than vegetables and flying lessons. Or have they invented a new broom with an attached infant carriers that automatically produce carrots and squash? I must have missed it."

"I'm just saying," he went on, choosing to ignore her sarcasm and blame it on a hormonal imbalance, "I think it'll fall into place once the kid actually gets here."

Ginny was silent for a few moments, and he thought that for once in her life, she was actually going to agree with him. It seemed, though, that she wasn't even on the same train of thought anymore. Instead, she asked a completely random question.

"Do you remember when we were little, how everyone was always so mean to us and bossed us around all the time?"

He didn't know how he was supposed to have forgot, but he humored her and nodded.

"Well, do you think they really were? Mean to us, I mean? Or do you think we just imagined it because we were just kids?"

"I am one-hundred percent positive they were really mean to us." He said this without hesitation, and Ginny looked over at him from her spot on the sofa.

"Really?" She sighed a little bit. "I just remember being so annoyed and thinking how awful it was to be the youngest."

Ron personally felt that although he was not technically the youngest, his position in the family had been the worst- much more so than Ginny, who at least had the luxury of being the only girl and getting spoilt for it.

"But now," she went on, "I think that maybe we were the lucky ones. We didn't have to be anyone's babysitter or anyone's role model… I mean, it didn't really matter _what _we did, did it? If we didn't do anything at all, no one would care or probably even notice. And if we screwed up, it wouldn't be so bad because somebody else would probably have already screwed up much worse."

Ron had never thought about their birth order from the position of a possible screw up. He supposed that maybe Ginny had a point there, as it would have been damn hard to top anything the twins had done. He was pretty certain that there was no amount of trouble he could have got into in the world that would have hacked his mum off more than she'd been toward Fred and George at one point or another. She was also sort of right about them not having to be anyone's role model. Still, he'd struggled with being one of the youngest throughout his entire childhood and, to a certain extent, into his adulthood. He didn't figure that anything he accomplished would be noticed or appreciated because someone would have already done it.

He did not go into this with Ginny.

It didn't seem as if she were really looking for input anyway, as she carried on with what were apparently built up thoughts that she'd been needing to get out for awhile. "I just keep thinking that no matter what, this kid is always going to be the oldest. Whether I have one more kid or eight more kids, this is always going to be the one that all the other ones have to look up to. So if he saves the world… or if he's some huge Quidditch star… or even if he's the biggest fuck up on the planet… that's what all the other kids will have to model themselves after. And I'm just scared because I don't know how to teach someone to be an older sibling."

"Aren't you getting a little bit ahead of yourself? He's not even _any_ kind of a sibling yet."

"But he _will _be. Eventually. If I screw this one up, all the rest of them are doomed."

"You're calling him a he."

Ginny covered her face. "God, I know," she said irritably. "I keep doing that."

"Because you know it's a boy."

She removed her hand from her face and looked at him sharply. "No, it's not."

"It'll be fine," he told her sensibly. Then he shook his head a little bit. "It seems like that's all I've been saying all day."

"What're you talking about?"

"Hermione was in tears before she went to work this morning."

"What did you do to her?"

"I didn't do anything to her." He was offended. "Apparently she's so overworked that she can't do anything _but _cry."

"Well, people are being really rude to her as well." Ginny worked on sitting up a bit more. It seemed to take a great deal of effort. "At work, I mean."

He knew this, of course, but it still angered him. Just thinking about the fact that so many people were such jealous bastards that they would literally bring her to tears pissed him off a lot more than he thought was healthy. Still, he wasn't going to dwell on it. He'd already told her to ignore them, and the best thing he could do to help her was to follow his own advice.

The rest of the day passed quickly. They talked some more about the baby, and she caught him up on all the latest gossip and going ons within the family and amongst their friends. He told her about training and how difficult it was and how he couldn't believe he wasn't even halfway finished. They had lunch and tea, and then eventually late afternoon rolled around and Harry showed up. It didn't take much effort to convince him to go out for a drink. Ginny didn't even seem to care a tiny bit, and she shooed them away carelessly.

They ended up in a Muggle pub down in the village. It was a lot easier than heading to Diagon Alley and trying to blend in at The Leaky Cauldron. While they managed it sometimes, it was difficult on the best of days. It was much easier just to frequent Muggle establishments because, while they might actually have to pay for their drinks, they were at least able to enjoy them in peace.

Harry seemed to be just as nervous as Ginny was at the fact that the baby was just two weeks from its due date, but he wasn't quite as mental as she was when it came to freaking out over the possibility of this child's influence over future children. Harry didn't seem to want to think about future hypothetical children, and Ron couldn't really blame him for it. Just the thought of one was enough to make anyone freak out, but he did his duty and repeated his mantra for the day.

"It'll be okay."

Harry, though, was the first person who actually seemed to agree with this assessment. "Yeah, it'll be fine. I think it's worse waiting than it'll be when the baby's actually here. Everything will work out then."

Ron wondered if he was simply trying to talk himself into this way of thinking or if he actually believed it. Either way, it was much better than Ginny's thoughts about how she was supposed to raise the next savior of the world, international Quidditch superstar, or world-class fuck up and how those skills would translate to the rest of her imaginary children.

They got off baby talk rather quickly, though, as Harry didn't seem much in the mood to dwell on the impending end of his youth and freedom. Instead, they talked about work, and Ron found that complaining to Harry about the training schedule and certain members of the staff was much easier than complaining to Ginny. This was due, of course, to the fact that Harry actually had some sort of idea what he was talking about. He was glad to learn that his best friend seemed to agree with him on most aspects and had even more stories to share about the bastards in charge who Ron was beginning to hate.

They were well on their way to getting fully pissed when they were interrupted by Hermione who seemed to appear out of nowhere at the edge of their table.

Both he and Harry were surprised to see her, as they weren't in any of the usual spots they normally chose to frequent. "How'd you know we were here?" Ron asked, moving over to give her room to slide into the booth.

"Ginny told me." She looked physically and mentally drained. Literally. And she reached for his glass and took a long drink from it before dropping her chin forward onto the table and saying, "Someone buy me a drink. Please."

This was an unusual statement coming from her, and it would have been amusing if she didn't look so damn miserable while making her request. He put a hand on top of her head, and she turned her neck so that she could look up at him. "What's wrong?"

"I hate my job," she said seriously, sitting back up and then letting her forehead fall into her hand. "I hate everything about it."

"Bad day?" Harry was half-drunk, so he obviously didn't realize the danger he was putting himself in by making comments like that. Ron was half-drunk, too, so he found it a little bit funny despite himself.

Hermione, though, was _not _drunk, and she glared first at Harry and then at Ron (for hiding a grin, he assumed). "I'm glad both of you have got jobs you love so damn much," she hissed hatefully, and this time, she grabbed Harry's glass and emptied it.

Ron took this as his cue to order them all drinks and shots because they weren't going to make it out alive if Hermione didn't get drunk quickly. It wouldn't take much, of course, as she had the lowest alcohol tolerance of any person he'd ever met.

The waitress brought them over a tray of glasses, and they all started in on their drinks. Hermione was drinking hers a bit more quickly than either of the men were, but neither of them pointed this out or did anything to stop her. Ron was positive that Harry, too, knew that they needed to get her drunk in order to keep her from hexing them both into oblivion right there in the middle of forty or so Muggle factory workers.

It seemed to work to an extent. The lower her glass got, the more cheerful she seemed to become. She started talking in a more normal sort of voice and stopped shooting them death glares every other second. She still went on and on about how everyone hated her and about how she was so sick of doing everything for all of them when no one would help her at all. Ron and Harry drank their own drinks and listened with a hint of amusement as she seemed to not realize that she was getting no response whatsoever.

"The only good thing," she said, finishing off the last bit of her drink and raising her empty glass to get another, "is that I turned the final draft of the Act in for editing today. After this, it's pretty much a done deal."

"So that's good, right?" Ron said, finally giving a verbal response. "The House-Elves'll be free in no time!"

Harry sort of snickered, which, of course, made it impossible for Ron to keep a straight face. Hermione, in true light-weight form, could not seem to find her angry gene. Instead, she just sort of looked at them crossly until Harry grabbed one of the waiting shot glasses and held it up for toast.

"To _spew!"_

Ron tried very hard not to laugh out loud, but it was quite difficult. Instead, he reached for his own shot glass and held it up in toast. "To _spew," _he agreed.

Hermione looked between them, seemingly trying to determine if they were taking the piss or not. They were, of course, but she didn't need to know that. She looked a bit put off that they were still calling it _spew _when, of course, they both knew perfectly well that it was S.P.E.W., but she couldn't seem to find this lecture, either. Finally, she just sighed and lifted the last glass.

"To _spew," _she said begrudgingly.

They laughed as they clicked their glasses and then downed the shots. Hermione was much better at doing shots than he would have expected, but she had already finished off both of their own drinks and was working on her own second after demolishing her first. Two more, and she wouldn't be able to stand up.

"Tell me what it stands for," she said bossily a second later. She was looking right at Harry, and he finally had enough sense to look a tiny bit nervous.

"What what stands for?"

"_Spew," _she said pointedly, raising her eyebrows challengingly. "What does it stand for?"

Harry thought for a second and then said, "Society for the Promotion…" His voice trailed, and Ron helped him out.

"Of Elfish Welfare!"

Hermione pursed her lips but looked secretly pleased nonetheless. "Well, good. I'm glad the two of you at least listened to _something _I tried to teach you."

"We listened to everything you said," Harry answered. "We even worse those badges."

This was a lie, of course, as neither Ron nor Harry had _ever _worn those stupid badges. Hermione either did not know this or did not remember because she didn't call them on it. Instead, she looked strangely nostalgic.

"Knitting hats was much easier than writing laws."

For some reason, this caused them all to laugh, and they immediately burst into laughter after catching each other's eyes. It was probably just the alcohol, but it was nice regardless. Ron had nearly forgotten how nice it was to just spend time with his friends doing normal things. Everything was happening so quickly that simple things like this seemed to be forgotten.

He made a vow to remember them.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading, please review!!


	31. Bountiful Blessings

**BACK TO THE BEGINNING**

**Chapter 31**

**BOUNTIFUL BLESSINGS**

* * *

The week seemed to fly by.

Hermione knew, of course, that this was due mostly to the fact that Ron was home. If he weren't home, it would have been just a normal, mundane week that dragged on and on endlessly like all the other weeks lately. But since she actually had something _enjoyable _for once, the whole week sped by in a blur. She was lucky, really, that she'd worked so hard on getting all of her drafts finished and turned in for editing. It gave her a much more flexible schedule, which allowed her to actually skive off her duties a bit and spend more time at home.

Before she knew it, though, both the week, and the _month, _came to an end.

The first of December was a Saturday. Ron had to return to the training camp on Sunday, and though she would have much rather spent the entire day at home alone, they both knew there were certain familial duties to uphold. Mostly, of course, they had to go visit his parents before his mum showed up and hexed them both. She didn't really mind. As much as she'd love to do nothing and lie in all day, she wasn't a selfish person and knew that sometimes she had to share. She also knew that it was important that he see his family during the brief time he actually had an opportunity. So it was with this in mind that they agreed to dinner at the Burrow.

Hermione knew that although there would be plenty of food, it was always nice to turn up to dinner with something in your hand. She sent Ron and Harry out to the shop to buy wine. _Nice _wine, she told them. But not too expensive. While they headed out, she went to Ginny's to help her finish the pie she'd insisted on baking.

She didn't realize when she arrived, though, that they'd all be in St. Mungo's by the end of the night.

Ginny was in the kitchen when she arrived, and Hermione thought immediately how miserable she looked. She was leaning against the counter, obviously struggling to hold herself up. The rest of her body didn't seem nearly large or strong enough to support her stomach, which was beyond huge. Ginny had one hand behind her, balancing herself against the counter, and the other hand was gently rubbing her stomach. It was a familiar move, and Hermione noticed that she seemed to do it constantly, almost as if it was habit. Today, though, she looked a bit ill and not at all too happy.

"You okay?" Hermione asked, inviting herself into the kitchen and leaning against the opposite counter.

"Yeah, I'm just tired." Ginny seemed rather listless as she spoke.

"You sure you want to go tonight? Maybe you should just go to bed."

Ginny frowned and shook her head. "Trust me, it would be pointless. The baby hasn't let me sleep in two days. Last night especially. It's ridiculous."

Hermione felt bad for her. Honestly. She could tell she was exhausted and completely miserable. She didn't know what to do, though, so she just tried to give her best sympathetic look. It was met, though, with a low groan from Ginny who squeezed her eyes tightly shut.

"Are you alright?"

Ginny took a second and then reopened her eyes. "I don't know what the hell I did to piss this little bastard off so bad. My child hates me already."

Hermione weighed the consequences against the moral obviousness of calling your unborn child a "little bastard." She finally decided that Ginny could be mean enough on a normal day- she didn't think it was really worth risking that now. She was going to open her mouth and say _something, _though, but she was cut off when Ginny eyes went to double their size and she seemed to be chewing through her back teeth.

"Ginny… Maybe you should sit down…"

Ginny didn't say anything. She just kept her eyes focused straight ahead and seemed to be struggling to remember how to breathe. She went even whiter, and Hermione had a horrible feeling that she knew what was happening.

"Ginny… I think…"

"No," Ginny snapped suddenly, narrowing her eyes. "It's not time yet."

"It's nearly time."

The baby was clearly on its way- December 10th due date be damned apparently.

Or maybe it wasn't. Perhaps this was just false labor. Or very bad gas. Ginny looked like she was about to faint, but maybe it was normal.

"How long has it been hurting?"

Ginny closed her eyes briefly and then pushed herself away from the counter. She started pacing the kitchen slowly, one hand resting on her back, the other still on her stomach. She didn't seem like she wanted to answer the question, but eventually she relented.

"Since last night…"

"Do you think this is it?"

Ginny swallowed and shook her head. "I don't know."

"Do you want to go to St. Mungo's?"

"Where's Harry?"

"He's with Ron. They're out getting things for dinner."

Ginny stopped and leaned her forehead against the doorframe. She took several deep breaths and didn't lift her head.

"I don't want to have a baby tonight… I'm too scared."

Hermione immediately switched into productive mode. The first thing she did was forcibly lead Ginny out of the kitchen and into the sitting room so that she could at least sit down. Ginny surprisingly didn't fight her and let herself be pushed to the sofa. She leaned her head back against the cushion.

"You need to go to the hospital," Hermione said firmly. "_I _do not know how to deliver a baby. So unless you're extremely talented, you have to go."

"You don't know where Harry is?"

"No." Hermione worked very hard to keep her wits about her, despite the fact that she was starting to freak out a bit herself. "I'm sure they'll be back soon, but no. I don't know where he is."

"I need him." Ginny said this very slowly and evenly, and she finally lifted her head.

Hermione looked at her, resisting the urge to reach out and shake her. "I understand that… But you're going to have to need him from the hospital."

Ginny ignored her completely. "I also need my mother."

Hermione could handle that. She knew, of course, that first priority should be getting to a Healer, but Ginny wasn't screaming in agony or anything, so she was pretty sure she at least had time to fulfill that request.

"Don't move," she said seriously. "I'll be right back."

Ginny's eyes were closed again, and Hermione wasn't even sure she'd heard her. She didn't dwell on it, though, and instead grabbed her wand and Apparated straight to the Burrow's front room. There was no one around, so she hurried through to the back of the house where the kitchen was. It was still early, but she figured that there was at least some sort of cooking going on, as Mrs. Weasley was very particular when it came to preparing family dinners. She was right, of course, and she found her at the stove.

"Oh, hi, dear," Mrs. Weasley said sweetly, smiling at her quickly before turning back to whatever she was currently stewing. "I didn't expect you yet."

"I think Ginny's having a baby."

She said it very quickly, and Mrs. Weasley immediately stopped what she was doing. "What? Now?"

She nodded. "Yes, but she won't go to the hospital without Harry."

"Well, where is he?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

Hermione wondered if it was really necessary to repeat each statement she made as a question. She tried to keep her composure. "He's out shopping with Ron. I don't know where they are. But Ginny's being completely unreasonable, and she won't listen to anything I say."

Mrs. Weasley drew in a breath and then nodded. "Right. Well, let's go then." She was surprisingly very calm, and Hermione watched wordlessly as she waved her wand to cease the cooking and then quickly scribbled a note as to her whereabouts. Then she followed her as she Disapparated and headed back to Ginny's.

When they arrived, Ginny was still on the sofa. She'd let her head fall back again, and she was now breathing slowly and rubbing a hand in meticulous circles over her stomach.

"Ginny," Mrs. Weasley sat down beside her and gently laid a hand on her knee, "do you think it's time for the baby?" She was speaking very calmly, and Hermione was a bit surprised. Of course, she was probably someone who thought of having children on the same panic level as washing dishes or something equally as common.

Ginny, though, seemed no more interested in answering her mother's questions than she had Hermione's. "Will someone please find Harry?" she asked quietly, opening her eyes and looking at them both rather desperately.

Hermione gave up then and went to the bedroom. She felt infinitely more nervous than Ginny seemed, but she pulled out her wand and attempted a spell she'd never had much luck with. "Please work," she whispered quietly before squeezing her eyes shut and doing her best to produce an acceptable Patronus. She knew it wasn't great, but she hoped it would do the trick and deliver her message. It disappeared, and she had no choice but to just hope for the best.

Ginny was in tears by the time she got back to the sitting room. She didn't know if this was from pain or hormones or fear or a mixture of it all. She couldn't imagine, and she just hung back silently as Mrs. Weasley whispered encouraging words to Ginny and rubbed her back soothingly. Hermione felt a little bit out of place, and she wished desperately that there was something for her to do. She thought perhaps she ought to go pack Ginny a bag, but she didn't get the chance because just a moment later, a loud popping noise sounded from behind her. She turned around to see that her Patronus had apparently worked because Ron and Harry were back. Harry looked like he might pass out as he looked past her to where Ginny now had both hands covering her face. Hermione just moved aside and let him pass before she turned back to Ron.

"_Now?" _he whispered.

She nodded and then lowered her own voice to a whisper. "She wouldn't go to St. Mungo's until Harry got back." She shuddered a little bit at the mere thought, "I thought I was going to end up having to deliver her baby!"

"Gross!"

"I _know!" _Hermione shook rolled her eyes and shook her head. "She said she's been hurting since yesterday!"

"Why the hell hasn't she already gone to the hospital then?"

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know," she whispered quickly. "I think she's terrified now that it's actually happening."

"I thought Harry was going to faint."

"Ten galleons says he does before it's over."

Ron glanced over her head to where Harry and Mrs. Weasley were now literally pulling Ginny to her feet. She seemed to be going completely against her own will, but they got her over to the fireplace anyway. "Deal," he muttered, holding out his hand. She shook it quickly.

The other members of their party all disappeared through the Floo without so much as a word to them. Hermione was sort of shocked, and Ron looked a slightly amused.

"Well, that was a little bit rude," he said, finally speaking in a voice above a whisper.

Hermione giggled. She felt a tiny bit hysterical. Shaking herself out of it, she said, "Maybe we ought to pack them a bag or something."

Ron shrugged but followed her anyway.

It turned out that having a baby took a lot longer than Hermione expected. She knew, of course, that labor could sometimes last for hours, but she hadn't really thought about how long "_hours" _really were. She found herself in the waiting room of the St. Mungo's labor and delivery ward for what seemed like a never-ending evening. People came in and out all night, checking to see how Ginny was getting along and if there was a baby yet. No one really stayed, though, everyone simply promised to check back. Hermione couldn't really blame them as it was a terribly, terribly boring experience. Besides herself and Ron, the only permanent company they had in the waiting room was Mr. Weasley who had turned up shortly after they'd arrived. Harry and Mrs. Weasley were in the room with Ginny, of course, but one of them would occasionally come out to give updates, which rarely consisted of more than, "_She's doing fine."_

Eventually, Hermione fell asleep. She made a makeshift bed out of moving four chairs together and laying out across them. It was uncomfortable, but she was so bored that she actually fell asleep rather quickly. Ron was caught up in some conversation with his dad and neither seemed to notice nor care.

She wasn't sure how long she slept, but it couldn't have been very long. She was awoken to a very rough sort of shaking, and before she had a chance to remember where she was, she opened her eyes and prepared to hex someone. When she saw Harry, though, she immediately got her senses back, and she sat up quickly. He was smiling widely, and he stopped shaking her as she moved into an upright position, pushing hair away from her face.

"The baby's here!" he said excitedly. "Come see him!"

"It's a him?"

Harry nodded quickly- he couldn't seem to stop smiling. "Yeah, come on!"

He pulled her into a standing position and tugged her across the waiting room to the corridor. Mr. Weasley was already gone, presumably in the room meeting his newest grandchild. Ron was waiting for them, though, and he smiled at her as they all headed down the hallway to where Ginny's room was. Hermione felt excitement building within her, and by the time they reached the room, she couldn't _wait_ to see the baby.

Ginny was lying in her bed and looked thoroughly exhausted but cheerful nonetheless. She smiled when they walked in.

"It's a boy!" she said, and Hermione was actually shocked to hear the excitement that _that _particular sentence seemed to ignite in Ginny who had spent the last nine months threatening to hex anyone who disagreed with her insistence that the baby was a girl.

"Who wants him?" Mr. Weasley was currently holding the baby but was willing to share. Hermione jumped at the opportunity.

"I do!"

She wasn't really prepared for the way it felt to hold him for the first time. She'd held other babies before, of course, but she felt a rather scary sort of sensation rush through her the very first second that baby was placed in her arms. She didn't know you could just immediately fall in love with something in a second's time, but she didn't have any other sort of explanation. He was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen in the world. He was sleeping or maybe just didn't want to open his eyes, but when she laid a finger against his tiny little palm, he instinctively gripped it. He was so soft and tiny. She sort of wanted to cry.

"So this is… James?" she asked, clarifying just to be sure.

Ginny nodded. "James Sirius. Don't you think he's perfect?"

James Sirius. "Yes." He was perfect.

Eventually, she had to hand him off. Ron wanted to hold him, and she passed him over, wondering exactly why she'd had such a strong reaction. Maybe it was just because it was her best friends' baby. Or maybe just because she knew he was her godson. It was crazy, though, and she wondered fleetingly how it must feel to actually hold your own child.

Her eyes flickered over to Ron at the thought, but he didn't catch her gaze. He was staring down at James in a way that made every single part of her ache, though she tried to ignore it. He looked perfect holding a baby.

She dazed out for a bit, but she was brought back to reality by Harry who was speaking in her ear. "He's really amazing, isn't he? Everyone keeps saying how big he is, but he looks so small."

Harry was happier than she'd ever seen him, and she felt great about that. He deserved to be happy, so did Ginny. She was happy _for _them. She hugged him, feeling the best she'd felt in a really long time. She pulled away from him, though, when Ron approached them. He handed James to Harry and then grabbed her hand. Everyone's attention was fixed on the baby, and no one even seemed to notice as Ron dragged her out of the room. She tried to protest, but he beat her to it.

"I need to go home and get something," he told her. He looked happy, too, and she wondered if he'd felt the same thing she had while holding James.

"What do you need to get?"

He shook his head. "Just come on."

She had _no _idea what he was talking about, and she didn't particularly feel like going home right at the moment. She wanted to go back in and hold the baby some more, but she figured there would be plenty of time for that. After a little bit of hesitation, she followed him and Apparated to their flat. He beat her there and was already coming out of the bedroom by the time she got her grounding good.

"What're you doing?" she asked, raising her eyebrows questioningly.

"You owe me ten galleons," he said, changing the subject. "Harry stayed conscious the whole time."

Hermione smiled a little bit and rolled her eyes. "I'm broke."

"A deal's a deal," he said, shaking his head disapprovingly. "You shouldn't go back on a deal. After all, your word's all you've got at the end of the day."

He was teasing her, and she shrugged one shoulder carelessly. She thought he was going to carry on for a bit more, but his face went from mock-sternness to completely seriousness in a split second.

"The baby's really perfect, isn't he?"

"He's gorgeous," she agreed.

"I want that."

She stopped and stared at him, completely unsure of where he was going. "You want what?"

"I want a baby," he said, his voice completely sincere. "With you."

She had _no _idea what he was on about. She stared at him silently and wondered if she was actually in shock. They were _not _ready to have a baby. No matter how beautiful James might have been, they were in _no _place to have their own child, and Ron knew it. He had to have gone completely mental or something.

"Not right away," he clarified quickly, obviously reading the horrified look on her face. "I know we need to wait a little while before that… But that's what I want. Someday."

She wanted that, too. _Someday. _She wasn't sure what he was trying to get at or why he looked so nervous. They'd discussed the possibility of kids countless times before. It wasn't as if it was some new subject or anything like that. She didn't understand why he looked like _he _was about to faint.

"Hermione, I'm trying to tell you something." She could tell by the look on his face that he was getting frustrated that she was apparently missing whatever he was trying to say.

"That you want to have a baby someday?"

He let out a frustrated sigh. "I want everything that Harry and Ginny have," he said pointedly. She thought this would be rather difficult unless one of them happened to hit _The Daily Prophet _lotto jackpot. They would never be in a position to have everything that Harry and Ginny had. "I just want us to do it the right way."

The last part of the statement stopped her thoughts in their tracks. She suddenly got the feeling that he wasn't talking about huge houses and fancy clothes. He was talking about something else entirely.

And she forgot how to breathe.

"You know I love you, right?" He sounded completely terrified, and his voice was low and scared. He actually moved closer to her so that he could lower his voice even more. She nodded in answer to his question, and he swallowed nervously. "More than anything else in the whole world, right?"

His eyes were locked on hers, and she couldn't glance away for even a second. All the air seemed to have been sucked out of the room, and she felt a warm feeling deep inside her. Unable to verbalize any words, she nodded again.

"I want _everything _with you," he told her quietly, and she was shocked to see that his eyes looked a little bit wet. He was staring at her so intently that she didn't even think she could breathe. "I always have. I don't even know what we're waiting on anymore…"

His voice trailed off as his eyes went to the floor, and she could tell that he was scared senseless. She knew exactly what was happening, and while she'd heard this conversation play out hundreds of times in her head, she couldn't remember what her response was supposed to be. She didn't know if she was simply supposed to stay quiet until he finished or if she was supposed to help him out some. He looked terrified, and she tried to calm him down gently.

"Ron…" She realized very quickly that she had no idea what to say.

"This was supposed to be perfect." He said it suddenly, looking up at her. She'd never seen him look so serious about anything. "After all this time, I just… I just thought it would be perfect."

She reached a hand up to gently push some hair away from his forehead.

"I want to marry you."

He said it bluntly, and the words seemed to hit her like a brick wall. She'd known it was coming, but hearing it out loud was a whole different story. She felt all the air leave her lungs as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring. She stared at it, wondering if this was even actually happening. She had trouble taking her eyes off the ring as he held it between two fingers, but she could vaguely hear him speaking.

"I want to marry you _now. _Well, not _right _now. Unless you want to. I mean…"

He was rambling and not making much sense. She shut him up completely by grabbing his face in both her hands and kissing him fiercely. There was an urgency to it that even she hadn't expected, but she didn't feel that she could possibly put what she was feeling into words. He didn't seem to mind, though, and he reacted immediately, kissing her back with an equal amount of urgency. And then she pulled back to take possession of her ring. She took it from him and slid it onto her fourth finger. It fit perfectly, almost as if it was _made_ for her. She didn't know where he'd found the time or the money for it, but she didn't care. It was beautiful and perfect and she was quite sure that nothing had ever looked as right as that ring did on her hand.

Ron was staring at it, too, and she lifted her eyes from it only when he spoke. "So that's a yes then?"

She didn't need to say it. She realized he hadn't even asked her. He didn't need to. They weren't those people. And instead of answering him, she kissed him again. This time, she took a slower, gentler approach. There were still just as many feelings and emotions, but they just came through in a different way.

When they pulled apart again, Ron grabbed her hand in his and lifted it to his chest level so that he could look down and see how the ring looked. "This was going to be perfect." He repeated and earlier sentiment, but he sounded much more relaxed now, as though a wave of relief had washed over him completely. "I was going to do like… a _thing _or something, I dunno…" _A thing. _He was rambling again. "But then tonight… I just don't want to wait anymore. I want to see you holding _our _baby. Just like James, but, you know… better."

She didn't know how he did it. She didn't know how he took the most nonsensical, babbling statements and made them sound like the most perfect poetry in the world. It was something she'd long since been confused by. She didn't have any logical response to any of it, so she just said the first thing that came to her mind.

"I love you."

He smiled at her- the crooked, sort of shy smile. He was still holding her hand in his, and he moved them until their fingers were interlocked. "Do you think maybe we should wait to tell people? Since it's kind of Harry and Ginny's moment and all…"

He seemed to read her mind, and she nodded silently, unable to do anything but stare at him and wonder how in the world she'd ever got to a point where everything was perfect. She had honestly every single thing in the world that she needed. And wanted.

Maybe this was the start of the happily ever after she'd always heard so much about.

* * *

A/N: Well, that was an eventful chapter! Thanks for reading!


	32. Baby and Broomsticks

**BACK TO THE BEGINNING**

**Chapter 32**

**BABY AND BROOMSTICKS**

* * *

Harry could count the number of times during his life when he'd been truly terrified on one hand.

That was probably surprising to a lot of people, as he'd been in his fair share of dangerous situations over the years. Surprisingly enough, though, he wasn't very scared too often. Perhaps he just got to a point where he accepted his fate and dealt with it. Or maybe he spent a good majority of his life in some sort of shock that prevented him from feeling real fear. Well, no, that wasn't entirely true. He'd been scared plenty of times, but not really _terrified. _His fear was usually more of a nervous feeling than anything else- a sort of dread.

As a child, he felt that often. He sort of lived with it constantly day in and day out because there was always someone around to shout at him or hit him, whether he was at home or at school. He was used to it, though. He accepted the inevitable because he knew perfectly well that there was nothing he could do to stop it. He just dealt with it.

When he moved onto Hogwarts, he had far more reasons to be scared. As terrible as his aunt and uncle might have been, or as evil as the schoolyard bastards at his primary were… they were nothing compared to the darkest wizard in history who had a to-the-death grudge against exactly one person. _Him. _Now that was real cause to be terrified. People probably expected him to be and most likely assumed that he was. No one ever would have blamed him for that at least. No one would have said, "_Oh, Harry Potter's a cowardly git because he's scared of You-Know-Who trying to off him." _Anyone in their right mind would be scared of that.

But maybe Harry was never really in his right mind.

From the very first time he'd heard Voldemort's name, he could really ever remember being scared of him. When he came face to face with him for the first time, or the sixth, he was never really scared. When he heard the prophecy that said neither would live while the other survived, he wasn't scared. He should have been, of course, as he was just a kid- a kid who was pretty much rubbish at school and lessons and spent more time playing Quidditch than properly learning spells that might someday save his life. But he was always very lucky. Somehow, he'd always managed to know the right thing or have the right people with him when he needed it most. And so maybe his faith in luck is what prevented him from being scared.

But still, to say that he'd never been terrified of anything in his life would be a lie. Accepting his own fate and waiting for his own death was much different than watching those around him suffer. When he was twelve years old and saw Hermione lying petrified in the hospital wing, he was terrified. When he was fourteen and watched Cedric Diggory die in an instant, he was terrified. When he was fifteen and saw Bellatrix Lestrange aim a curse at Sirius, he was terrified. When he was sixteen and frozen in place as a group of Death Eaters surrounded Dumbledore, he was terrified. And he was seventeen and attending his best friend's brother's funeral, he was terrified.

Those were the moments he counted as the scariest of his life. Aside from Hermione being petrified (which scared him beyond belief as a twelve year old), they all consisted of very significant deaths. He felt a bit bad thinking of those particular deaths as the most significant because it sort of made all the others seem less than what they were. But it wasn't that at all. Every single person who'd died in that war had meant something, and even years later, Harry couldn't find enough gratitude in the world. But those four were the ones he counted as the worst- he witnessed every single one, and they were all forever ingrained in his mind. Cedric was the real start of everything. Dumbledore felt like the hopeless end. Fred was part of the closest thing to a family he'd ever known. And Sirius was everything he _could_ have had but never would.

But none of those moments, not one, could compare to the way it felt to hold the baby for the first time.

He was screaming when he was born. He screamed the whole time he was being cleaned off and the whole time Ginny held him. He was still screaming when she passed him over, but Harry could barely hear the wails as he looked down at the tiny little person in his arms. He was immediately mesmerized, and he didn't even get a good proper look that first time he held him. All he could really focus on was the fact that there was now a human being in the world who he was entirely and completely responsible for. James was going to rely on him for _everything- _for food and clothes and a home and everything else in the world. Everything that this kid did or became would be down to him, Harry.

That was the most terrifying thought in the world.

But it was impossible to feel anything less than ecstatic even with the terrifying thought of complete responsibility. Because the baby was perfect, and there were no words to describe the way it felt to look into his face. Harry felt like he loved him a little bit more every single second. Every time he looked at him, he felt like he could see a bit of himself looking back, and there were no words to describe that.

James was perfect. He had ten perfect toes and ten perfect fingers. His hair was very dark but definitely red, and it stuck up on its ends in a crazy sort of way. His eyes were blue, but everyone said they'd change quickly- the question, of course, was whether they'd end up brown or green. Harry hoped they'd be brown. But green would be fine, too. His cheeks were chubby, and people constantly remarked about how big he supposedly was. Harry couldn't fathom the fact that anything about him was "big" because he was just so tiny.

The first week they brought him home, Harry took a mini-break at work so that he could be home for a few days. Ginny seemed thrilled to have him home to help, as she was still having a bit of trouble getting around too easily. Her gigantic belly was mostly gone, but she was still rather swollen (something everyone assured her wouldn't last too long). She appreciated the help, though, even though she rarely let James out of her arms.

She was in love- _completely. _

The very first second in the hospital when James was born, and the Healer announced, _"It's a boy!" _Ginny had immediately launched into loud protest.

"No, no! No, it's…_ Oh, my god."_

Those were her exact words. Harry didn't think he'd ever forget the way her voice changed the second she actually laid eyes on the baby. She'd wanted a girl so badly, but when she saw the baby for the first time, all of that seemed forgotten.

She also, conveniently, seemed to forget the way she'd treated Harry in the hours leading up to the birth. It had taken a _long _time for the baby to come, and Harry was sort of surprised he made it out alive. Ginny did not speak a single sentence to him that did not contain some sort of angry swear. Harry wasn't sure what he was supposed to have done to have pissed her off so, but her mum told him not to take it to heart. That was easy for her to say, though, and once when she nipped out to go give an update to the waiting room, Ginny actually _choked _him. Literally. She waved him over, and when he catered to her wish and leaned over to find out what she needed, she wrapped both of her hands around his neck and started squeezing. Mrs. Weasley returned just in time to save him, though, as he was already starting to turn a bit blue.

But once the baby was born, Ginny seemed to forget all of this. She was all smiles and sweetness and wanted to kiss him and tell him how much she loved him and how happy she was. She made no mention of the fact that she'd just an hour earlier told him that she wished he'd "go jump off the top of the fucking Tower of London." And he didn't bring it up.

The next day at the hospital was the same way. She was overly nice to him and told him she loved him about forty times. They had plenty of visitors, and it seemed as if everyone they'd ever met stopped through their hospital room that day. And then they got to go home, and they were met with a wide row of photographers blocking the Floo connection. Harry hadn't expected that, though he probably should have. But there were plenty of photographers and reporters waiting there, all trying to get an interview or the first picture of the baby. Cameras flashed brightly from every direction, and James, who had been sleeping peacefully up until that point, woke up screaming. Harry had never wanted to literally punch someone in the nose as much as he did the photographers in that second who were shoving their cameras toward the baby carrier just trying to catch a glimpse. Harry did not know what was so damn interesting about a two day old baby that they needed to traumatize him like that, and it was lucky that hospital security stepped in to clear an easy path into the connection for them. Harry pushed Ginny in front of them and then followed her, feeling more anger than he'd felt in a long time.

They had immediately upgraded the security wards surrounding their home. They were in the middle of the country in a Muggle village, but it wouldn't be too difficult to find them. And the last thing Harry wanted was reporters and photographers lined up outside his front door. So they made it impossible for anyone besides their family a few select friends to Apparate onto the property and decided straight away that their child was _not _going to grow up in the public eye with cameras flashing in his face at every step. They were going to keep him out of that world as best as possible while he was growing up- that was an easy decision.

He was a good baby.

Visitors always commented on how quiet he was, and Harry supposed they were probably right. James had his moments, of course, mostly in the dead middle of the night, when he felt the need to scream endlessly and seemingly with no point, but for the most part, he was well-behaved and rarely fussy. He ate a lot more than Harry expected he would, but when he was finished eating, he'd just close his eyes and fall straight back to sleep. He liked Ginny best, which was lucky, really, because she didn't like sharing him or putting him down too often. She would let him sleep with her if it were up to her, but everyone in the world told them that that was one habit they didn't want to start. So she, begrudgingly, put him in his crib each night, and he normally went straight to sleep without too much bother. He woke up every two hours, of course, but he wasn't very difficult to calm and get sorted out.

The week at home was amazing. For the first time ever, Harry really, truly felt like he had his own family. He'd known, of course, that he was accepted into other people's homes as family, and he'd know, too, that once he was married, he technically had a family. But now it felt real. Mum and Dad and Child. That's what a real family was supposed to be, and he couldn't remember ever having a real role in any part of that equation. At one point in his life, he'd very briefly played the part of the child, but he had no recollection of it. He'd always heard how different it was to start your own family, but he thought the whole thing was completely new. He'd loved before, but never like that. Falling in love with the baby was easy and instantaneous, but he felt that he fell even more in love with Ginny every time he looked at her looking at James.

He couldn't really describe it, and there was no point really. It wasn't something that could really be verbalized. It was just a feeling. Like everything in the world came together and actually made sense. Like he finally had a purpose in life. Everything up until that point seemed really, really insignificant all of a sudden, and while he'd never considered himself to be the world class hero that so many other people seemed to think he was, he'd never felt more important.

Going back to work was difficult. The week at home flew by, and soon enough, he was waking up at six-thirty and heading into the Ministry. Ginny got up with him, as it was nearly time for James to be fed anyway. He helped her get him ready for the morning- changed his diaper and dressed him in a fresh sleeper. They had a quick bite for breakfast, and then it was time to go.

"Say bye-bye to Daddy," Ginny said sweetly, handing the baby over to him. James whimpered a little bit at the transfer, but a second later, he settled down and blinked a little bit before letting his eyes fall back shut. Harry didn't really want to give him back, and he certainly didn't want to leave. But he had to. He ran a hand gently over James's head and watched as his hair stood up even more crazily than before. Then he kissed his forehead and passed him back to Ginny.

"Just call me if you need anything, okay?" he said seriously, and Ginny nodded. "I'll come home."

"We'll be fine," she assured him. "But okay."

"And don't forget, your mum said she was going to be over around noon."

Ginny looked a little bit amused but nodded nonetheless. "I won't."

He nodded, too, hesitating as long as possible, unwilling to leave. Finally, though, he could think of no more excuses to stay. Ginny smiled at him.

"I love you." She leaned up slightly to kiss him, placing one hand on his chin.

"Let me know if you need anything." He pulled away, and she nodded. He had no more delaying excuses. "Love you." He kissed her once more quickly and then Disapparated.

Work was hectic the second he arrived. He hadn't ever really taken time off since he'd begun working, and the longest he'd ever been away for one time was a weekend. While he'd not thought of his job one time since he'd been away, apparently his job had thought of him often. His desk was filled with literal piles of paperwork. He'd never seen so much in his life, and he didn't even know what half of it could be. He didn't think that he normally did that much paperwork in a week, but maybe he'd just never noticed, as it'd never got to the point where it piled up like that before.

He managed to slip in unnoticed, but that only lasted about three seconds. Before he even had a chance to put his things away and take a glance at the mounds of papers littering his desk, people were coming up and asking him questions about the baby. They all wanted to know how James was doing and if he had any pictures. They all said congratulations and offered him what were probably genuine smiles. It was nice, but it was also a tad bit overwhelming. He already felt sick and guilty about leaving Ginny and James at home, and he didn't think that constantly answering questions about them would help with getting over that.

But he wasn't rude. When people asked how they were doing, he told them that they were all doing very well. When they asked if he had pictures, he showed them a few snapshots taken the day they brought James home. Everyone oohed and ahhed over how beautiful he was and how he was lucky to have such a perfect little baby. Harry knew this, of course, but he smiled graciously and thanked them. And in between the interruptions, he tried to navigate his way through the week's worth of work that was currently in front of him. It was ironic, really, that he'd spent the past few months so immersed in work that he stayed for overtime nearly every single day. He hadn't worked all the overtime because it was really needed, he'd done it because it added a nice extra supplement to his wages. Now, when he wanted nothing more than to go straight home and be with his family, though, he would probably have no choice but to work extra hours just so he could get caught up with everything.

It wasn't fair.

The morning passed quickly, though he didn't feel as if he actually got much accomplished. He still couldn't actually _see _his desk, and half of the things that had been left for him made absolutely no sense. He'd started a rather large pile beside his desk that he mentally entitled "_What the fuck?" _and it was by far larger than the "_Completed" _stack. He figured that he should at least store those that he didn't understand together, rather than just chucking them in the bin, which is what he actually wanted to do. He was distracted, though, and every few minutes, he found himself wondering what Ginny and James were doing. He had to physically force himself to stay at his desk instead of wandering over to the Floo and calling to check. He knew they were fine, but he still couldn't shake the need to see for himself. Still, he knew that if he got up once, he'd find a reason to do so over fifteen minutes or so. His boss wouldn't thank him for that- Ginny probably wouldn't, either.

So he stayed at his desk and worked his way through the past week's assignments. Eventually the line of visitors slowed, and he actually made it through a full hour without being interrupted. That ended, though, when he felt two hands on the back of his shoulders. He was a little bit surprised because even though plenty of people came up to speak to him, very few actually _touched _him.

"Want to go to lunch?"

He was less surprised by the physical contact when he heard the voice. He turned his head and looked up at Hermione who looked rather exhausted herself. She was smiling, though, and he was extremely grateful to see a familiar face. Not that he didn't _know _most of the people who'd approached him that morning, but he didn't consider most of them to be friends or anything like that.

"Is it time already?" He checked the clock and saw that it was almost one. "The day's going quickly."

"Maybe for you," she said, summoning his coat from the rack and handing it to him. Apparently, he had no say in whether or not they were headed to lunch.

"I'm not very hungry," he said, putting his quill down and standing up to get his coat on. Hermione was already dressed in her own outerwear, and she smiled at his response.

"Good. I want to go shopping anyway."

"In the middle of the day?"

She shrugged and started leading the way out of the Ministry when he'd got his coat on. "I haven't got time to go any other time. By the time I leave work, most of the shops are closed."

He couldn't argue with that. Hermione worked a ridiculous amount of hours, and when she wasn't working, she was usually doing something to help someone else out. She'd spent plenty of time at his house the past week helping out. She'd even attempted to cook a few times, but she usually gave up halfway through the attempt.

"You're in a good mood," he remarked as they buzzed for the lift and squeezed their way in with about a dozen or so other Ministry workers.

She shrugged one shoulder. "It's nearly Christmas," she said nonchalantly, but he didn't miss the smile that was still playing on her lips. She'd been in a rather good mood quite a bit lately. He had a feeling something besides Christmas was going to make her so cheerful, but she wouldn't tell even if he prodded.

It was certainly very obvious that it was Christmastime when they got out of the Ministry and Apparated to Diagon Alley. The street was filled with people bustling about doing their shopping. It made Harry wonder why more people weren't at work, but perhaps they were on their lunch or something just like he was. Surprisingly, though, as crowded as the street was, very few people seemed to notice them. They were able to blend in rather nicely as they made their way through the crowds.

"Where'd you want to go?" Harry asked, glancing at the window display of Quality Quidditch Supplies. There were several people admiring the latest version of the Firebolt. It _did _look pretty spectacular.

"My dad wants a pair of Extendable Ears."

Harry stopped looking at the display and raised an eyebrow at her. "What in the world does your _dad _want with Extendable Ears?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and shrugged. "I don't know. He finds them amusing, I suppose. And he said he wants to hear what the staff is saying behind his back because he suspects that the hygienists are plotting to form a union."

"Are you serious?"

She rolled her eyes again. "I don't pretend to understand."

Harry laughed. "I'm pretty sure you could have got a set of Extendable Ears without actually having to go into the shop."

"Well, I _hate _the Ministry, so any excuse, yeah?"

He didn't argue with her there. He knew how frustrated she was with her work lately. Still, he was a little bit amused by the whole thing.

"Let's go in here," he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her into Quality Quidditch Supplies.

She followed him, asking what in the world he was looking for. He didn't answer her right away and went straight to the back where the desk was. A short bloke with graying hair was working the counter and looked up as they approached. It was clear that he recognized them because he immediately stood up from his stool and straightened up in the way that people so often did when trying to impress. Harry found it annoying, but he said nothing.

"Can I help you?" Even his accent sounded put-on, but Harry ignored this.

"Yeah," he said, motioning behind him to the display. "Have you got that new Firebolt in a kid's size yet?"

Hermione rolled her eyes beside him and looked at him crossly. He ignored her, too. The man nodded.

"In the back, sir. Just a moment." He disappeared into the stock room, and Hermione took that opportunity to lecture him.

"You are _not _buying James a broomstick," she said flatly. "He can't even roll over yet!"

He rolled his own eyes. "Not for _James," _he said, glad to prove her wrong. "I'm not an idiot." Hermione did not reply to this, though he could tell the words were literally _burning _the tip of her tongue. "I want to get it for Teddy."

Even though he'd shot down her original theory, she wasn't going to give up that easily. "Teddy's not big enough for a _Firebolt!"_

"That's why it's called a _kid's size, _Hermione."

"Kid's size for like nine or ten years old- not _six!"_

"He'll be fine," he said dismissively, just as the shopkeeper showed back up with a smaller version of the window display.

"That's too big for him," Hermione said firmly. "He'll kill himself on that thing!"

The store worker shot her a rather annoyed look that was sort of amusing actually. Obviously he thought she was going to block his sale, but Harry honestly didn't care what Hermione said. She knew nothing about Quidditch or flying or broomsticks. Teddy was past his toy broomstick, and Harry thought it was certainly time he have his first real one. He could handle it, and it would be a great way to get him started on learning to actually _fly _instead of just hover a few feet off the ground, which is all the toy versions allowed.

Also, he felt the need to bribe Teddy just a bit.

Logically, he knew this was a horrible concept and that you shouldn't bribe children for anything. At least according to all the books Hermione had shoved at him over the past several months. But Teddy wasn't actually his kid, so maybe it didn't count. Truthfully, he felt a little bit guilty where Teddy was concerned. He hadn't seen him nearly as often as usual these past few months, and while he normally saw him at least once or twice a week, it was now more like once or twice a _month. _It wasn't that he didn't care, of course, he'd just been really busy getting married and moving into a new house and having a baby and all that.

Teddy, though, didn't see it that way, so that's probably why he refused to even acknowledge Harry when Mrs. Tonks brought him by to see the baby a couple of days ago. Harry tried to joke around with him, but Teddy had either developed selective deafness or was just pissed the hell off. Harry was putting his own money on pissed the hell off.

He barely glanced at the baby, and when he did, he just wrinkled his nose up and did not appear impressed. Then he went straight back to his grandmother and told her that he was hungry and wanted to go eat. And that was it. Both Mrs. Tonks and Ginny told him not to worry about it and that he would come around to the idea, but it didn't do much to make the guilt go away. It was easy for them to say- they weren't the ones ignoring their orphan godson, were they?

So if all it took was a brand new hundred galleon broomstick to make Teddy start liking him again, then that was a fair price to pay.

"I'll take it," he said, ignoring Hermione's disapproving tutting. The man at the counter looked pleased and immediately began wrapping it up.

She continued to lecture him on the dangers of putting a six year old on a broomstick that was able to potentially take him a hundred feet in the air as they walked over to Wheezes. He continued to ignore her. He was actually glad when a kid ran up and asked for his autograph because it at least made Hermione stop hissing at him temporarily.

George was at the very back of the store by the counter when they arrived. There was a line of customers, but one of the shop girls was in charge of the register and checking them out. George was going through a stack of paperwork that was considerably smaller than the one currently on Harry's desk. He looked up when they approached him.

"Well, look what the cat dragged in," he said jokingly. "What's got you two on this side of town in the middle of the day?"

"Hermione needs a pair of Extendable Ears because her father wants to spy on his employees." Harry said this with more than a bit of self-satisfaction.

George grinned and looked at Hermione questioningly. She glared at Harry and then turned back to George. "That's… _true," _she said begrudgingly. "But it's not as bad as he makes it sound."

George laughed a little and then looked at the broom-shaped package Harry was carrying. "I wouldn't give Ginny a broomstick for Christmas. It _might _end badly for you, mate, just a heads up."

"He didn't buy it for Ginny," Hermione piped up snottily. "He bought it for a _six_ year old."

"Excellent!" George said appreciatively.

Hermione sneered at them. "I feel sorry for both your kids."

"Oh, we'll feel sorry for yours, too, don't worry," George said smartly.

This infuriated Hermione, of course, who glared at both of them before huffing up and heading off to find the pair of Extendable Ears. George's favorite pastime was winding her up, so he was well pleased with himself before he turned back to Harry. "So, how's the baby?"

"Good," he said honestly. "He's still not crying a lot or anything."

"Lucky." George rolled his eyes. "We _still _can't make it through the whole night."

Fred and James were the first boys born into that generation, and Harry wondered if they'd grow up as best friends or if they'd hate each other. They'd be in different years at school, but they would still be fairly close in age, as Fred wasn't even yet a full year old. It was the first time he'd really thought about which kids James might get on best with.

They chatted for a few more minutes until Hermione showed back up, and George got distracted with new opportunities to infuriate her.

"Your boyfriend doesn't work here anymore, you know," he said, holding up the packet of Extendable Ears she'd just brought to the counter. "You can't get this shit for free anymore."

Hermione didn't miss a beat. "Actually," she said without blinking, "I've _never _got anything for free from here. Because who would want this junk?"

"Your dad apparently."

Harry couldn't help it, and the laugh he tried to stifle burst through his lips before he could stop it. Hermione didn't even spare him a glance, though, and the outraged look on her face became even funnier when she retorted with a very _un-_Hermione like response.

"Oh, fuck off."

Harry's attempt to stifle laughter was completely a lost cause after that, but it was nothing compared to George's reaction. George, who was apparently quite brave, burst into laughter the second the words were out of her mouth. He couldn't get it under control, either, which, of course, only fueled Hermione's anger further.

"Oh, my god," he said, wheezing through his laughter. "_Please _say that again, Hermione. _Please!" _She glared at him, and he continued to crack up. "Oh, god, I needed a laugh. Please, just one more time. I'll give you anything you want for free," he snickered. "I'll come over and cook your dinner… Just say it again!"

Harry couldn't really blame George. As hilarious as hearing those words come out of Hermione's mouth was, harping on it would unquestioningly make her even more furious. And since watching her get angry was something of an amusement for George, Harry wasn't surprised that he continued to prod her.

"I hate you," Hermione said bitingly.

But George just grinned and shook his head. "No, you don't. You love me."

Hermione was not amused. "No, really," she said seriously, snatching the packet of Extendable Ears back from him. "You disgust me. And I'm taking these for free, by the way."

She Disapparated then without a word to either of them, and George only laughed more when she was gone.

"She's way too easy," he said, shaking his head.

Harry tried not to find it as funny as it really was, but that was difficult. After all, Hermione, although she was one of his best friends, could be quite annoying at times. And it was sort of funny to watch people get to her- people who weren't actually doing it maliciously anyway. George was doing it on purpose, and they all knew it. Hermione knew it, too, which only made it more amusing.

"You need to watch it," he told George seriously. "One day, she's going to snap on you."

George grinned and nodded. "I've been waiting on it for years… It's gonna be _epic."_

"Better you than me."

* * *

A/N: Thanks for the reviews on the last chapter! Hope you enjoyed this one, too!


	33. Spilling Secrets

**BACK TO THE BEGINNING**

**Chapter 33**

**SPILLING SECRETS**

* * *

Ginny never would have believed that it was possible to love someone so much, but every single time she looked at her baby, she felt literally like her heart might explode.

Her mum told her that that was how all mothers felt when they looked at their children, but Ginny couldn't believe it was normal. She didn't know how so many women in the world could feel so much emotion. If there was that much love that existed in the world, she didn't know how anything horrible could ever happen. She felt that if all the evil people in the world could just have a child and feel that sort of love that nothing awful could ever happen.

Unfortunately that wasn't the case, though. There was plenty of evil in the world, and she had witnessed loads of it during her twenty-three years on earth. But most of it was over now, and for that, she was really thankful. She couldn't imagine what it must be like to bring a child into the world in the midst of so much terror and hate. She herself had been born right at the height of the first war- she'd barely been two months old when Voldemort had killed Lily and James Potter. She wondered if her parents had felt guilty having children during all of that. She was glad that _her _James wasn't born into it, and she hoped that he would never have to experience any of it. Things were relatively calm now, and that was the world she wanted to raise her baby in.

She loved everything about that baby. She loved when he gripped her finger in his tiny little hand, and she loved when he made little gurgling noises in the back of his throat. She loved when he opened his eyes and looked straight up at her. She even loved when he woke up in the middle of the night screaming.

She thought he was the most beautiful thing she'd ever laid eyes, and she had trouble pulling her gaze away from him for any amount of time. She felt that she wanted to stare at him constantly, almost afraid that she'd miss something if she looked away. Everything he did seemed to be a tiny little miracle, and she loved every second of it.

He was the best thing that had ever happened to her.

She mostly took care of him by herself, as Harry had to go to work and usually stayed there until dinnertime. She wished he could be home more, and she knew he did, too. But they both understood that he had to work if they wanted to live comfortably. Besides, taking care of James wasn't difficult. She'd always heard how much work a baby was, and she'd fully expected to be exhausted and miserable, but it wasn't really like that at all. It was a lot of work, yes, as there were feedings and nappies and all the rest, but James was actually a _very _good baby. And she wasn't just saying that because she was partial, either.

Her mum told her she was lucky, and she believed it. She'd been around enough of her brothers' kids to know that not all babies were so even-tempered and quiet. But James wasn't a very difficult child at all. She fed him, changed his nappy, and rocked him. That was pretty much it. She couldn't nurse him, though, and for that, she felt a little guilty. She'd tried, but she hadn't been able to make it work. That made her feel a bit like a failure because mothers were supposed to be able to nurse their young- that was a law of nature. The Healers, though, assured her that it wasn't uncommon and that plenty of women had difficulty with it. She had no choice but to accepted it, of course, so instead of nursing him, she fed him bottles. She wasn't sure if it was ultimately easier or more difficult, but they fell into a rather rhythmic routine. She knew exactly when to feed him and could almost always predict when he needed to be changed. In between those thrilling activities, he mostly just rested in her arms and slept.

And she loved it.

Every morning after Harry left for work, she'd take James back to their bedroom and lay down with him. She'd prop him on a pillow and rub his back gently. Sometimes he would open his eyes and look back at her, but most of the time, he'd just lie there quietly and nap. She always talked to him, telling him stories about anything and everything, knowing, of course, that he couldn't understand a word she was saying. It didn't matter because she knew he could hear her and would learn to recognize her voice.

She felt bad that Harry was missing so much, but she knew there weren't really any other options. He loved to take care of the baby while he was home, though, and she loved him for it. She'd never seen him so happy, and just knowing that meant more to her than anything else really could. Of course, she could tell he was suffering his own little bout of guilt at working so much. He wanted to be around for the baby, too. Not only that, though, he was also feeling rather guilty about paying less attention than normal to Teddy as well.

He'd confided this in her, and she'd told him not to worry about it. When Teddy had come over to meet the baby and had completely ignored Harry, she'd also told him not to worry about it. But she knew that he _did _worry about it and that he _did _feel guilty. So she couldn't really blame him when he came home with a ridiculously overpriced miniature version of the latest Firebolt model. Hermione, she knew, had already told him that it was silly and that Teddy was too young for a real broomstick, even if it _was _supposedly kid's sized. So Ginny skipped that lecture. Besides, when she was six years old, she was already sneaking her brothers' brooms out of the shed and taking them up when no one was around. She'd got hurt a few times, but her mum had always been able to handle it. Of course, if her mum had known that the variety of broken wrists and sprained ankles had actually been caused by falling off of brooms she was forbidden from touching instead of by tripping over gnomes (her favorite childhood excuse), she'd have been in a _lot _more pain than the wounded bones caused her. But… what her mum didn't know couldn't hurt her. Or Ginny. And anyway, Teddy would be fine. Everyone had to fall off the broomstick a few times before they learned how to fly. That was life.

Besides, the bribery appeared to work.

Teddy had been over to their house the previous Saturday, but just like his earlier visit, he did not seem interested in messing about with Harry or in getting to know James. Ginny asked if he wanted to hold the baby (sitting down, of course), and he answered with a very blasé, _"Nope." _He spent most of the afternoon sitting on the floor playing a solitaire game of Snap, which was, really, rather depressing. Finally, Harry asked him if he wanted a present.

This was the first statement of Harry's that Teddy actually seemed to hear, and he looked up despite himself. Ginny was on the sofa, but she could see the inner-struggle that Teddy was going through. He wanted to stay strong and hold onto his grudge, but he also wanted what every six year old kid wants- presents.

"Do you?" Harry asked again, and Teddy finally nodded, though it was clearly reluctant.

Harry started to get up, but Ginny beat him to it, hoisting James into one arm, she went into the bedroom where the brook had been deposited and retrieved it. She brought it back to the sitting room and handed it to Teddy who took it timidly and looked at the package. The contents were quite obvious from the wrapping, but perhaps it wasn't so easy for a child to figure out. Teddy set the package on the floor and went about unwrapping it. When he finally got the paper off, he stared at the new broom with a look of awe.

"Cool!" he blurted out, obviously against his own best judgment. He seemed to realize his over-enthusiasm, though, because he made a visible effort to calm himself quite quickly. He looked up at Harry almost timidly, as though questioning his motives.

Ginny took that as her opportunity to disappear. Really, she just took the baby into the kitchen and stayed there under the pretense of giving Harry and Teddy a bit of privacy. Of course, she spied on them through the little crack in the doorway and eavesdropped on their entire conversation. But they didn't need to know that.

"Why'd you get me a present?" Teddy asked, pushing himself onto his knees and trying to look less interested than he really was in the broom.

"Because you've been good. And you deserve it."

Teddy didn't look too convinced. "Why didn't you get it for James? He's your son."

Ginny patted James's back unconsciously as she waited for Harry's response. It came a second later, and he sounded a bit timid himself as he, too, slid onto the floor to sit.

"Yeah," he agreed. "He is. But he wouldn't be much fun teaching to fly, would he?"

Teddy shrugged.

"I need to teach _you _to fly," Harry said coaxingly. "Then _you _can teach _James _when he gets big."

"But shouldn't you teach him?" Teddy said again. "You're his dad."

"Yeah, but you're kind of like his big brother."

"But I'm _not_," Teddy said firmly, and Ginny was surprised to hear how serious he was. "Because you're not my dad. I don't _have _a dad."

Ginny felt suddenly that she should stop listening in because the conversation was moving too personal. She couldn't move, though, and she waited for what would come next. Harry didn't answer right away, and Teddy went on. His voice sounded tired and a bit sad.

"Everyone else has got parents except me. I haven't even got a mum _or _a dad. Everyone else has."

"Not me."

Ginny moved to get a better look at Harry who also looked very serious. She didn't think he'd ever had this conversation with Teddy before because, to the best of her knowledge, Teddy had never acknowledged his lack of parents before.

He was staring at Harry curiously, and he hesitated a second before carrying on. "You don't have any parents?"

Harry shook his head.

"What happened to them?"

"They died. In the war."

"Just like mine?"

Harry nodded.

Teddy said nothing for a long moment. Ginny couldn't really see his face, but she could tell by Harry's that they were both learning something new. She'd never really seen Harry have this discussion with _anyone _before. It broke her heart.

"Did you know them?" Teddy finally asked.

"Just for a little while. They died when I was still a baby."

"Just like mine," Teddy repeated softly, though this time it was a statement and not a question. "I don't remember them."

"Me, either." Harry pushed a bit of hair away from his face. "I remember yours, though."

"Yeah?" Even though she couldn't see his face, Ginny could hear Teddy light up at this knowledge.

"Yeah," Harry nodded. "Your dad and my dad were best friends."

"Really?"

Harry nodded again. "And your dad was our teacher at school, too."

"Whose teacher?"

"All of us. Me… and Ginny. And Ron. And Hermione. And George… And Percy. We all had him at Hogwarts."

"Because he taught Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Ginny bit back a smile as she listened to Teddy grow more confident in his knowledge of his dad. He'd heard stories, of course, but she knew he always liked to hear them over again, even if the new details were few and far between. She didn't know how much he knew in all honesty, but he knew his dad was a teacher and that his mum was an Auror and that they'd both died in a war. Those were details he could rattle off easily. Everything in between… she wasn't so sure.

"So why are you my godfather?" Teddy asked a few moments later. The question seemed sudden and out of place, and Ginny looked for Harry's reaction.

He lifted one should. "I dunno. Your dad asked me. Maybe he thought you'd need somebody to teach you how to fly, and I was the best Quidditch player he knew." He smirked, and Teddy laughed.

"Not better than Ginny."

Ginny smirked to herself. Teddy was a smart kid. Harry, though, let out a sarcastic little grunt.

"_Please. _I _trained _Ginny. I was her Captain."

Ginny gaped and narrowed her eyes, though obviously neither of them could see it. _"I'm much better at Quidditch than your dad," _she whispered to James who was sleeping against her chest. _"Don't ever let him tell you otherwise."_

"Maybe he knew that one day I'd have a baby who'd need a big brother." Harry's voice broke into her thoughts, and she forgave him for his jab at her Quidditch skills.

"So I can be like Vic is with Dom?" Teddy asked, and Ginny's eyes went wide as she listened for Harry's response.

"Well," he said slowly, "maybe a bit nicer." Good job. Ginny certainly didn't want Teddy taking lessons from Victoire on how a good older sibling was supposed to be behave.

"Can I really teach him how to fly when he gets big?"

"Only if you learn properly yourself," Harry said with fake sternness, pushing the Firebolt toward him. "So we'll have to get started on that."

"Right now?" Teddy perked up considerably, and Ginny couldn't help smiling as Harry stood up and handed him the broom as he pulled him to his feet.

"Only for a little while," he said, compromising. "It's pretty cold out there."

"Wicked!" Teddy ran for the door, broomstick clutched in hand.

"_Coat," _Harry said sharply. Ginny smiled. He was a great dad already.

And so now that things were worked out with Teddy, Ginny could tell that Harry had a lot of stress off of him. He was in a better mood, and he was able to enjoy their new life even more. She really, truly felt like things were perfect. She just wished that he could be around a bit more.

He left early one Saturday morning for an extra weekend shift, and she went about the normal morning routine of waking James up and changing his nappy. She fed him and changed him again and then got him dressed.

"What do you want to do today, Jamie?" she asked him sweetly, leaning down to kiss his nose as she pulled his arms through an undershirt. He gave her no response, of course, but she took his blink to mean that he wanted to get out of the house. "Do you wanna go see Aunt Hermione?" Another blink, so obviously that was yes. "I bet she's going to be surprised to see how handsome you look in your new jumper." She pulled said jumper over his head and went to work trying to get his hands out. He certainly _did _look very handsome.

She was still a little wary about Apparating with him, though she'd been assured that it was fine now that she was no longer pregnant. It still scared her, so she only took him places by Floo. This meant, of course, that she had to bundle him up and put him in a carrier to keep the soot and dust out of his face and nose. Still, it was fast and relatively painless, and she found herself arriving at her destination nearly instantly.

Hermione was off for the day, as it was the weekend and even _she _was forced to take a break from time to time. She was cleaning instead, dusting one of the shelves with a rag and a can of Muggle spray cleaner. Ginny would never understand why Hermione insisted on still doing so many things the Muggle way, especially since she was so ridiculously talented at magic. Still, perhaps it was difficult to break habits and traditions that you were raised with. If Hermione first learned how to dust with a spray can and an old rag, maybe she just felt more comfortable doing it that way. Who was Ginny to judge?

She stopped, though, when her visitors arrived, and she dropped the cleaner and the rag immediately, rushing off to wash her hands and then back to grab James. She barely even acknowledged Ginny as she set straight to undoing James's buckles and lifting him out of his carrier. She picked him up and leaned him against her shoulder, running one hand over the crazy mess of spiked hair.

"Don't you look like a little man!" she cooed sweetly. James nuzzled his face into her and settled comfortably.

Hermione loved James, too. That made Ginny happy. She loved it that other people were so enamored with the baby because it made her feel proud and thrilled her. Lots of people commented on how sweet he was and how beautiful, but there were a few people who really loved him just like he could have been one of their own, and one of those was Hermione. She was _mad _over the baby and had spent nearly every evening helping out and visiting him. Ginny thought that if there was anybody in the entire world that she'd want to be the godmother to her first baby, it would be Hermione, so she was very glad they chose her.

"Where did he get this jumper?" Hermione asked, moving over to the sofa and settling down in one corner.

"Fleur's parents sent it. It's adorable, isn't it?"

"Oooh," Hermione said jokingly, leaning down to kiss the baby's head. "All the way from France, aren't _you _something?" He grunted in reply, and they both laughed.

"He is very fashion conscientious," Ginny said. "He's learning early how to get the girls."

Hermione smiled and laughed a little. "So did Harry get Teddy sorted?"

Ginny bit back her own smile, already having been informed of Hermione's take on both the idea of buying a small child a fully-functioning broomstick and also on the idea of buying a child's affection in general. Apparently, she was a fan of neither.

"Yeah, they're good," she said, stifling a little yawn. "He's already had him up for his first flying lesson."

"And is Teddy still alive?"

Ginny nodded. "Just two broken fingers." Hermione looked horrified, so she mollified her quickly. "I fixed them before he even got started crying good."

"It's very dangerous."

Ginny gave her a small smile. "He'll be fine," she assured her. "Harry's always really careful with him."

Hermione rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the baby. "I hope your daddy grows a brain by the time you learn how to walk."

Ginny laughed and leaned her head down against the cushions of the sofa. "He's the best thing ever," she said wistfully, looking at James who was sleeping peacefully. Hermione smiled and ducked her head again to get another good cuddle in. "You need to get you one," Ginny added kiddingly.

She was surprised by the serious look on Hermione's face.

She looked at her curiously for a few moments and then prodded her to spill whatever was on her mind. "What's wrong?"

"Ginny, I have a secret."

Ginny's eyes immediately went wide, and she sat straight up, crossing her legs underneath her eagerly. "Oh, my god, you're pregnant!"

Hermione's own eyes went wide, and she looked almost horrified. "What?! No!" She shook her head quickly. "No."

Ginny didn't know whether to be offended or amused by the horrified denial. She settled on just curious. "Then what?"

"Swear you won't tell?"

"I swear." Ginny maybe wasn't the _best _secret keeper in the world, but she could keep her mouth closed when it really mattered.

Hermione sat up and passed the baby back. Ginny took him and settled him into the crook of her lap. She watched as Hermione reached behind her to the side table and grabbed her wand. She didn't know what was going on when Hermione looked down at her hand and muttered a spell. She understood a second later, though, when a ring appeared on Hermione's fourth finger, obviously hidden by magic.

"_What?!" _she screeched, immediately reaching over and grabbing said hand for a better look. James gave a bit of a whimper at the disturbance, but luckily, he didn't start screeching. "_Why _is this a secret??"

Hermione looked a little bit nervous but mostly just looked thrilled. "We're waiting 'til Christmas to tell everyone."

"_Why, _though? How long have you had this?"

"Since the night James was born."

Ginny gaped at her, her mouth literally falling open. "Why haven't you _told _anyone?"

Hermione sighed a little bit and then shrugged. "We didn't want to take away from the baby… And Ron gets to come home at Christmas, so we just decided to wait a few weeks before we told anyone. But I had to tell somebody, it's been driving me crazy!"

"You haven't even told your parents?"

She shook her head. "Ron had to leave that next morning, you know, and we want to tell them together."

Ginny didn't know what to say. She thought it was sweet that they'd considered James and kept their engagement a secret at the time it happened, but she couldn't imagine going so long without telling everyone. She really couldn't imagine _them _going so long because they'd been together for ages and already lived together and did everything just the same as if they were already married. Everyone else was just waiting on them to make it official. Still, she couldn't hide her own excitement.

"I'm so happy for you!" she said excitedly, finally dropping Hermione's hand and leaning over instead to hug her. She kept one hand resting on James's head to make sure he didn't go toppling into the floor or anything as she moved.

"I'm so excited," Hermione admitted, not able to hide her own grin as she looked down at her hand. "I wish he didn't have to leave so early, or we could have already told everyone."

"When do you think you'll do it?"

"Tell everyone? Probably at Christmas dinner."

"No, get married," Ginny corrected her.

"Oh! Um, probably in the summer. You know, when Ron's finished and everything."

"You'll elope before then."

Hermione laughed a little bit and shook her head. "I don't think the mums would appreciate that too much."

Ginny looked at her like she was crazy. "Are you kidding? One less wedding to pay for? They'd probably thank you for it!"

"That's exactly what Ron said." Hermione rolled her eyes. "But remember, I'm an only child. I don't think that'd go over too well."

Ginny shrugged. "I suppose not. I guess mums need to see their babies get married." She looked down at her own baby and tapped his nose a little bit. "Don't you ever run off and get married." He looked extremely bored.

"Just please don't tell anyone," Hermione said seriously. "Ron would kill me."

"I won't," Ginny promised. "Does Harry know?"

"I don't know." Hermione sighed. "I don't think so. But, you know, possibly, I guess. _I _didn't tell him."

"Well, he hasn't said anything. I don't think he does."

"Then please don't tell him," Hermione was being very serious. "I know he's your husband, but if he knows, Ron will know… And just… Don't please. I don't want that drama."

"I promise." And she was telling the truth, too. She wouldn't ever tell that she knew early. "And Jamie won't tell, either, will he?" She rubbed his belly.

"He better not," Hermione laughed as she leaned over kissed his forehead before picking him back up and cradling him in the crook of her arm. "You better keep that little mouth shut," she told him with fake sternness.

He yawned in response.

* * *

A/N: I just want to tell anyone who's wondering… James is not nearly as fun to write as a newborn as he is to write as a grown up bastard! I miss him!


	34. Parties and Problems

**BACK TO THE BEGINNING**

**Chapter 34**

**PARTIES AND PROBLEMS**

* * *

Christmas had always been Ron's favorite time of the year.

Not just the day itself, but the whole season really. He just loved it. He loved Christmas trees and decorations and presents and just the way everyone always seemed _happier. _When he was a kid, he loved the way the house always smelled like fresh-baked pastries, as his mum was constantly baking some holiday-themed treat. He loved the way the tree was always decorated and sparkling and the way new gifts would appear under it daily. All the kids were forbidden from messing about in them, of course, but that didn't stop them. They'd spend hours sneaking away while their mum was otherwise engaged, examining and shaking the packages to try and figure out what was hidden inside. If she caught them, they'd inevitably be in for it, but it was always worth the risk.

Growing up, he and his siblings would all fight to see who could wake up the earliest. That person would then be responsible for waking up all the rest, and they would spend the morning upstairs excited and actually getting along. They were never allowed to go downstairs until their parents were awake and gave clearance, but it was inevitably the earliest morning of the year for them regardless. They always did presents first thing in the morning, and then they had a huge breakfast and spent the rest of the day relaxing. That was their tradition- every single year.

Ron still loved the holiday. Even without the childhood traditions, he still got excited and still felt in a great mood. He still spent the day with his family, only now, instead of a huge Christmas breakfast, they had a huge Christmas lunch in the late afternoon. Now that everyone was mostly married off with kids of their own, this gave them all ample time to visit their other family and friends before getting together at the Burrow. The tradition swapped in adulthood, too- it was food first and _then _gifts. The kids hated this, but Grandmum set the rules.

Ron didn't have any kids of his own. And he didn't technically have a wife, either. _Yet. _But he had Hermione and had done for many years. Her family didn't have a big to-do on Christmas, as they did all of their celebrations on Christmas Eve. Ron gave up trying to make sense of that because whenever he asked Hermione, she simply said, "That's just how we do it." That was not a logical answer, and she knew it. But she obviously didn't have a better one. He was used to it now, though- used to spending Christmas Eve with the Grangers and Christmas Day with his own family.

This year, he didn't even make it home until Christmas Eve. They got exactly three days off of training for the holiday- December 24th, 25th, and 26th. They didn't even get the full day off on the 24th, so by the time he made it back to London, it was already well into the afternoon. The Ministry was closed for the entire week, so Hermione was home finishing up the gift wrapping. She'd purchased all the presents on her own this year, so when he looked at the stack littering their floor, he had absolutely no clue what was in any of them. She stopped what she was doing the second he arrived, though, and made good on lost time.

Truthfully, it hadn't been that long since their last visit- only about three weeks, which was significantly less than the two months they normally spent apart. Still, he was willing to wager that it had been the _hardest _few weeks apart that they'd encountered. This was due, of course, to the fact that they'd had virtually no time at all to celebrate their engagement. He'd asked her, they'd gone back to the hospital until well into the night, and he'd left early the next morning. It wasn't fair.

He still couldn't believe he'd asked her like that. He hadn't meant to be so random and spontaneous with the proposal. He'd planned on making it special and doing something romantic that she would always remember. As it was, though, he hadn't even technically _asked _her, much less given her some huge romantic gesture. He hadn't got down on one knee or carefully opened a little velvet box or any of it. He'd just told her he wanted to marry her and pulled out the ring. And somehow…. Somehow it had worked.

And the look on her face right after he asked her was what had kept him going the past few weeks. He'd wanted to tell everyone but had managed to keep his mouth shut, kind of glad in a way that they had a secret that only the two of them knew. They had several secrets, of course, but this was a big one. And as slowly as those few weeks dragged by, he kept thinking that when he finally got to go home that they could tell everyone they knew, and he could have a whole new bevy of images to keep him going.

They told her parents on Christmas Eve. After he'd arrived and they'd gotten just a bit of alone time, they got ready and went to her parents' house for the annual Christmas Eve party. It was sort of a posh party where you had to get dressed up and pretend to have more money than you actually did. Not that Ron really considered it to be snooty or anything, but it was always a little uncomfortable because he didn't really know anyone there besides her parents, of course. Hermione didn't know anyone too well, either, and she hated going there and mingling with her parents' friends because she said it made her feel out of place, despite the fact that she'd been attending this particular party for as long as she could remember.

No one knew about Hermione, not even her parents' closest friends or their family. She only had one set of grandparents still alive, and even they didn't know. Ron thought it was strange that something so big could stay hidden for so long. Or, rather, that it would _need _to. But Hermione always insisted that it was for the best and that other people, even her own grandparents, wouldn't understand or accept it. So everyone just thought she'd gone off to a normal boarding school when she was eleven and had since gone off to London for university and got an accounting degree or something. Ron found it fascinating that so many people would just believe something so blindly without any sort of proof. Hermione told him that people didn't normally concern themselves with things not directly related to themselves, and as she wasn't particularly close to anyone in her family, they had no reason to probe further. Ron couldn't understand this, either. Perhaps he had an overly nosy family, but he couldn't imagine not knowing what was going on in their lives. He especially couldn't understand the grandparent thing. He'd never known his own grandparents, as they'd all died before he was born, but from the moment Victoire was born, his mum had taken a very active role in her life, wanting to know every detail of every day- from what she ate for breakfast to what time she went to bed. And she'd done the same with all the rest of her grandkids, too. It was just bizarre to him.

They arrived at her parents' house at half six, and they were met by a houseful of people enjoying wine and a variety of cheeses that had been set out for the pre-meal period. The meal, of course, would be catered, as neither of Hermione's parents were too fond of the kitchen. Hermione insisted that her mum was actually quite a good cook and just chose to spend her time doing other things. Ron thought that was probably bollocks and just a way for Hermione to deny that she was genetically wired to be hopeless with cooking.

Her family was well off. Hermione always insisted that they were _not _rich, but Ron didn't know how much clearer it could be that they had plenty of money. They didn't flaunt it or anything, but they had a very nice house and very nice things. They were able to throw very nice parties, and he wasn't sure there was anything about their lives that wasn't _very nice. _He didn't make a big deal about it, though. Bringing up the difference in their families' wealth made them both uncomfortable, so it was better just left unsaid.

They found her mum first when they arrived. She was in the kitchen getting several bottles of wine from the cupboard and setting them on the counter. She nearly hit her head standing up when they interrupted her, but she looked beyond pleased to see them, smiling immediately and hugging them both.

"Oh, I was so worried you wouldn't be able to make it in time," she said as she let go of Ron. "Did you just get home?"

He nodded, choosing not to go into the fact that he'd been home for nearly three hours already but had spent them shagging her daughter instead of getting ready for her Christmas party. Not that she would care about that. She was nearly the opposite of his own mother in that respect. She wasn't insane, for one, and she didn't have any outdated ridiculous views about how they should live their lives. She didn't try to convince herself that her twenty-five year old daughter was still somehow innocent and virginal. Still, if given the choice, it wasn't a conversation he would willingly have.

"You must be exhausted," she said, grabbing a glass and filling it with red wine. She shoved it at him and then did the same to Hermione.

Hermione took it but obviously meant to get straight to business. "Mum, we need talk to you. And Dad."

"Can it wait a bit?" Her mother started pulling down more glasses, obviously trying to make sure all of her guests had plenty to drink. Ron didn't blame her for that. He assumed that most of those people were only tolerable in a room full of other drunk people.

"It won't take long," Hermione said, placing her glass on the countertop. "Just wait here, I'll go get Dad."

She disappeared, and Ron instantly felt nervous. He wasn't sure why because there was really no reason whatsoever. Hermione's parents had always been very nice to him and made him feel very welcome. They'd never behaved the way he imagined most parents of an only child would behave- overly protective and threatening to anyone who might be in a position to hurt their baby girl. He also enjoyed the fact that they'd always treated him like an adult and never as a child. They treated Hermione the same way and apparently had done her entire life. They spoke to her on an adult level and never talked down to her as if she was just a stupid child. They encouraged discussion and opinions, and they were both very approachable.

He loved his own parents, but even now, with all of their kids grown, they still had a bit of a tendency to treat them like children. His mum was especially bad. It was as if she couldn't accept the fact that her children had grown up and were adults. Hermione's parents were nearly the opposite. Ron had a feeling they'd never accepted the fact that their child was a _child. _Perhaps that's why she was always leaps and bounds beyond her years both maturity-wise and intellectually. Ron had recognized the difference in their parents nearly immediately. For one, they'd never allowed him to call them Mr. and Mrs. Granger. He remembered going over to her house with his dad to pick her up before Third Year and worrying over how to address them- it must be awfully confusing to have two people named Dr. Granger in one house… But they'd never let him call them Dr. or Mr. or Mrs. They were John and Ellen and always had been. It was funny, really, because both Harry and Hermione had practically grown up in his house but still had difficultly calling his parents anything other than Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, even when they insisted otherwise.

"Are you liking your training?" Ellen asked as Hermione disappeared.

He shrugged. "It's alright." He knew he didn't sound too enthused, but he wasn't. He was more focused on the fact that he was about to tell her parents that they were getting married. "It's a lot of work."

"I can imagine. Hermione says you stay busy all the time."

"Yeah, I have to leave the day after Christmas."

"Well, at least that'll give you enough time to see your family. I'm sure you're anxious to see the baby again."

She was talking about James. "Have you seen him?"

She nodded. "Yes, he's adorable."

"I only got to see him when he was born. Hermione said he's already a lot bigger."

"Well, babies grow a lot those first few weeks. She's absolutely crazy about him."

He knew this was true. Hermione talked about him constantly- both in letters and in the sort amount of time he'd been able to have face-to-face conversation with her since he'd been home. Speaking of, she turned back up then with her dad in tow.

"Alright, Ron?" he asked, giving him a friendly nod before filling his own glass up with the freshly-opened wine bottle. Ron nodded a response, feeling more nervous now than he had even moments before. He hadn't seen her parents since Harry and Ginny's wedding, and now he was about to spring another impending set of nuptials on them.

"So what's this you want to talk about?" Ellen asked, leaning slightly against the counter and looking at them expectantly.

Ron said nothing, probably because he'd forgotten how to speak. He didn't know if it was his responsibility to break the news or if Hermione should do it since they were her parents. They hadn't discussed it, and he thought now that they really should have rehearsed this before they showed up. Hermione, though, didn't say anything, either. He glanced over at her and saw that she, too, seemed to be a bit nervous, and he wondered if she was afraid that her parents might react badly. He really couldn't imagine that being the case, but there was always a possibility, he supposed.

When no one said anything, though, her dad cut right to it. "Do you need money?" Ron and Hermione both most have given puzzled looks in response because he hurried to smooth it over. "If you need help, just ask. We know you're not getting your usual wages right now, so if you're in a rough spot, we can help you."

"We're fine." It was Hermione who said it, and he was surprised at how firm she sounded. Truthfully, they _could _use some help, but neither of them would willingly admit it. Ron was gone most of the time, but he did occasionally see the banking statement, and they didn't exactly have a lot of wiggle room when it came to finances. But still, asking for help wasn't something either of them were really too keen on.

"Well, if something's wrong, you should tell us," Ellen broke in, suddenly a lot more serious. She looked concerned, probably because they both looked close to fainting. "You know we'll do whatever we can."

"We're getting married!"

Hermione blurted it out, and there was a bit of stunned silence following her outburst. Finally, she held up her hand as proof. She'd been wearing a concealing charm on the ring ever since she'd had it, but now there was no reason to hide it anymore.

"How wonderful!" her mum finally exclaimed, once she'd got past the initial shock. She grabbed Hermione and kissed her forehead before letting her go and hugging Ron, too. There was lots of hugging and congratulations after that, and Ron was beyond thankful that her parents actually seemed happy for them and that her dad didn't try to threaten his bollocks or anything.

Later that evening, when her parents announced the engagement to their partygoers, they were met with a less eventful sort of happiness. A few people smiled and offered them congratulations. One person said, "I thought she was already married." Some people ignored them altogether. Ron didn't care.

They spent the rest of the evening spending time mostly with her parents who didn't seem too fussed about being good hosts and spreading their time evenly amongst their guests. Ron was glad that they weren't forced to socialize with all the others too much. He really didn't enjoy any of them too much, and he wondered how it was even possible that Hermione's parents could associate themselves with most of those people. They all seemed stuck up and vapid and annoying. The exact opposite of the Grangers.

After the party, Ron and Hermione stuck around for a little bit, opening their gifts and just spending some time with her parents. It was nice, and he was extremely thrilled that they seemed so happy about the engagement. They discussed a few details, like when the wedding would be and that sort of thing. For the first time, Ron considered the fact that if they had a normal wedding at the Burrow like everyone else, Hermione wouldn't be able to invite anyone besides her parents. If they had a Muggle wedding, a great number of his own relatives couldn't be invited because they couldn't be trust not to make a scene. He didn't bring it up there, but it started weighing on his mind a bit. Finally, though, it was time to leave, and they said goodbye to her parents, Ron feeling a bit guilty that he'd only managed to see them one time in the past five months. He made a promise to himself that he would make time for them, too, the next time he was home.

It was late when they got back to the flat, and Hermione noted almost fleetingly that it was already Christmas as she went into the kitchen to prepare bedtime tea. Ron was full from the large dinner and the several glasses of wine, but he followed her anyway. Their kitchen was tiny, just like everything else in their flat. Sometimes it blew his mind that something so small could still cost so much, but he'd come to accept the fact that it was an expensive city. You couldn't do big in this city unless you were rich, and they were certainly, by no means, rich.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked, filling the kettle at the tap before turning back to the stove.

He just looked at her. "Nothing."

"You're quiet."

"It's almost one o'clock in the morning. I've been up since five."

Hermione raised her eyebrows in a way that let him know he sounded too testy. "Sorry," she mumbled.

He didn't know why he'd even snapped like that. He wasn't even aware that he was in a less than good mood until right then. But suddenly, out of nowhere, everything bothered him. He'd never even had new clothes growing up, so moving into a tiny London flat had been a step up because at least none of his siblings had lived in it before him. But he wondered if Hermione hated it. She'd never had to share anything in her life, never had a hand-me-down or ever had to listen to her parents worry about how they were going to buy her school things. His family was the type to have homemade Christmas celebrations with hand-knitted gifts. Hers threw Christmas Eve parties for thirty people and fed them expensive wine and cheese for appetizers. She'd come from _that… _to _this. _A tiny kitchen in a tiny flat and barely able to make their bills.

And before he could even stop himself, he heard his own voice.

"Maybe we shouldn't do this."

Hermione stopped what she was doing instantly and stilled completely. She didn't say anything or move even, but he knew right away that she knew exactly what he was referring to. He didn't know why he said it, but he couldn't take it back.

"Do _what _exactly?" Her voice was low and dangerous, and logically, he knew that he should be worried because he knew that tone better than anyone. He couldn't make himself back down, though.

"Get married right now." He braced himself for the backlash, but he was completely shocked to see that Hermione very calmly turned off the stove and simply turned around to look at him.

She said nothing for another long moment, and then finally she spoke. "You don't want to marry me." It was a statement, not a question.

"I didn't say that," Ron corrected her. "I said right now." She stared at him, and he forced himself not to back down. "Maybe it's too fast."

"Only _you," _she sneered, suddenly very sarcastic, "would call six and a half _years _too fast."

He knew she was right, of course. She had a very horrid habit of being right about nearly everything. He also had a horrid habit of refusing to acknowledge this fact on most occasions. "Six and a half years, and what have we got to show for it?"

She stared at him incredulously, and he thought her mouth might literally drop open. "What are you _talking _about?!" Her voice was no longer calm, and she was a step away from shouting. That made it easier for him to carry on.

"We haven't got _anything! _This stupid flat where you can't even turn around without knocking yourself against the opposite wall!" He rolled his eyes, and then he kicked the lower cupboard just for good measure.

Hermione looked like she didn't know _what _was going on, and he wasn't too surprised. He didn't even really know what was going on, but he knew he was angry. He just couldn't put a reason to it. He just felt like a sudden failure. He knew he didn't deserve her and had never really done anything to deserve her, but what was he even doing besides making everything about her life worse? She'd come from everything into _this?_

"I can't believe you," she said lowly, and he could hear betrayal in her voice. "Why would you do this to me?"

"Do what?"

"Why would you ask me to marry you and then take it back?" She was staring at him expectantly, and he realized exactly what he'd done.

"I didn't take it back," he said quickly. "I just…" But he didn't know what to say.

It didn't matter because Hermione apparently knew exactly what to say. "You couldn't have decided this _before _I made a fool of myself and told my _parents?!"_

"Why are you getting mad? I just-"

She cut him off. "Why am I getting _mad?!" _She shook her head rapidly, and her hair that was pulled back in a band flew everywhere. "This is the _worst _thing you've ever done to me!"

"Hermione-"

"You've done some really awful things to me over the years, but this one just wins the lot!" He was horrified to see that her eyes were now swimming dangerously with tears. He didn't know how it'd got to this point or even why he'd opened his mouth in the first place. She wouldn't let him get a word in now, so he had no choice but to listen to her carry on. "I can't even believe you would do this! I don't… I don't _understand… _Why would you ask me if you didn't mean it?"

He stared at her, and there was a moment of silence- a break in the madness- and he didn't even know what to say. She was staring at him, waiting for him to say _something, _but he had nothing. And when she realized that he wasn't going to defend himself, her tears finally got the best of her and spilled over.

"_Why?" _she asked again, and this time, her voice broke in the middle of the word. She bit down on her lip, obviously trying to stop the tears, but it was no use. "Here," she said suddenly, and he watched as she jerked the ring off her finger and shoved it at him. "Fine," she muttered, and then she left him standing there in the kitchen.

He heard the bedroom door snap shut, and he knew that she'd locked him out. He couldn't blame her. But at the moment, he couldn't do much of anything besides look down at the ring in his hand. It was nice, but he hadn't even been able to afford _that. _He'd had to borrow money from his brother just to pay for her _ring. _How was he supposed to give her everything she deserved when he couldn't even get her a tiny piece of jewelry?

Everyone knew it, too. Everyone knew that he didn't have anything to give her and that he couldn't take care of her. Her own parents knew it- offering them money like they were some charity case. They probably just didn't want her living in this stupid little worthless flat anymore. And they weren't the only ones. His own parents had made mention of their lack of money, too, and his parents certainly weren't experts on the subject of wealth.

But… _"Fuck." _He closed the ring in his palm and squeezed it closed. He didn't even know what just happened. He didn't know why he'd said any of it or done anything to make her think any of that. His head was pounding suddenly, and he felt sick. He sort of thought he might throw up, but he didn't. He just stood there, dumbfounded, and stared at the same small kitchen he'd come to hate just moments earlier.

And for the first time in a really long time, he knew he'd done something he couldn't fix.

* * *

A/N: Oh, why do they always screw things up for themselves? I'd love to hear thoughts!

By the way, there's a new story up. Deathly Hallows stuff- so check it out!


	35. Crying Christmas

**BACK TO THE BEGINNING**

**Chapter 35**

**CRYING CHRISTMAS**

* * *

Ron had broken her heart before.

He'd done it on numerous occasions actually. For as long as she'd known him, he'd had an uncanny ability to hurt her. She'd hated it when she was younger- hated the fact that he had so much power over her that he could make her feel so much pain. It had taken her a really long time to understand it. For years, she'd wondered why simple statements that normally wouldn't even faze her could send her into a blind rage when uttered by him. Things she could ignore completely from other people would infuriate her when they came from him. She didn't understand it.

When they were kids, she often thought he was the meanest person she knew. Without doubt, he was mean to her. On several different occasions. He was the reason for her first crying breakdown at Hogwarts and spawned many more after that. But still, she always managed to forgive him. Because for every time he brought her to tears, there was another time when he was burping up slugs for her.

And that's what she never understood.

She never understood why he was so protective over her and seemed to take so much offense to what other people said to her when he usually said worse things on a daily basis. She remembered being thirteen years old and telling her mother that. She hadn't known at that point that she was giving herself away because she hadn't known there was anything _to _give away. When she was fifteen, she'd figured it out, but that hadn't stopped her from speaking to her mum about it again and asking her opinion on why the things he said bothered her so much more than the things other people said. Her mother's answer had been simple.

"You care more about his opinion than you do other people's."

And she was right, of course. Hermione knew that, but she'd needed someone to tell her. She'd needed to hear that she wasn't crazy and that it was hormones driving her anger toward him and not insanity. It was normal. To an extent. Maybe not completely. It also helped to know that his ridiculous blind jealousy was probably caused by his own hormones and not by an extreme amount of idiocy. Not all of it anyway.

When she was seventeen, he really broke her heart for the first time. It was silly now, looking back, but at the time, she'd taken his very public relationship with Lavender Brown to be the ultimate betrayal. It had humiliated her, honestly. And maybe that's why she had such a hard time getting over it. She wouldn't have enjoyed it in any sense, of course, as she was well aware by that time that she liked him in a horrible sort of way. She'd been trying to talk herself out of it for years, but eventually she'd given up. And he liked her back, she knew he did. So she couldn't understand why he felt the need to grope her roommate at every given opportunity. It was worse, of course, because everyone else knew, too. They all knew that he was doing it just to piss her off, and that made her feel like a fool. Because it worked. It _really _worked. That was the closest she ever came to hating him. And every single night as she lay in her bed listening to Lavender drone on and on about her "relationship," she got a little bit closer.

But they got past that. They moved on, and after that, all bets were truly off. He wasn't going to snog any other girls, and she wasn't going to employ any childish techniques to make him jealous. They both knew what was going on, but they also both knew that they couldn't do anything about it. They grew up somewhere between Lavender Brown and the Horcruxes. She wasn't sure when it happened, but one day she just knew it. That's when they formed their unspoken agreement. They would be together. Eventually. They just had to focus on other things first.

But then he left.

He left her, and she felt the worst betrayal she'd ever felt in her entire life. If she'd thought watching him shove his tongue down another girl's throat was heartbreaking, she'd been delusional. Running after him in a rainstorm and watching him Disapparate after she screamed his name and literally _begged _him not to go was the worst feeling she'd ever imagined. And she vowed that very night, as she lay curled up on her cot sobbing into her pillow, that she would never, _ever _let him hurt her again.

That was the deal breaker. She could deal with all the other things that had happened because they were kids and they were confused and… _puberty. _But she couldn't deal with the fact that he would run off and leave her when he was supposed to be there to take care of her and listen to her and _love _her. She'd put every ounce of trust she had into him, and he had betrayed all of it. She didn't care that it wasn't even about her. Logically, she knew that his anger was at Harry, and she'd only got brought into the situation by proxy. It didn't matter. He didn't leave _Harry. _Harry was the freaking _Chosen One. _If one person in the world could take care of themselves, it was Harry. _She _needed him. She wasn't as brave as Harry or as capable. She couldn't stare down Death Eaters and not even flinch. She was terrified to be out there, and Ron _knew _it. He knew it, and he'd promised her over and over again that he would take care of her. But he broke that promise. He got mad at Harry, and he _left. _But Harry didn't need him the way she did. Harry wasn't in _love _with him.

She wasn't going to forgive him for that. She cried too long over it, and it hurt too much. She swore to herself that it was the last time and that everything she needed to know had just been spelled out for her. Every delusion she'd had about Ron's feelings were all just make believe. People who actually cared about you didn't hurt you like that. They didn't _leave _you. It didn't matter how much she loved him or how badly she wanted him, she wasn't going to let herself be hurt anymore. She wasn't going to keep putting herself in a position where he could torture her over and over and over. He'd had too many chances already, and she had no one but herself to blame for the fact that he still had that much control over her.

So when he came back, she held true to her promise. She didn't forgive him. She hated that Harry forgave him so easily, and she refused to listen to the reasoning that Ron had just saved his life or any of that crap. One good deed didn't make up for a million wrongs, did it? And that's exactly what Ron had done- a million wrongs. He was a liar and a bastard and a horrible friend. So Harry should have hated him. But he didn't. And it infuriated Hermione to no end.

That was the first time Ron had ever actually begged for her forgiveness. And it wasn't just one time, either. It was multiple times. He always did it when Harry wasn't around, of course, but nearly every single time they were alone, Ron would apologize over and _over. _And he would beg her for forgiveness, swearing that he was sorry and that he'd do anything to make it up to her. That was the first time in her life she'd ever told someone to fuck off.

But before she knew it, he was burping up slugs for her again. Only this time, it was a lot more complicated than that. This time, he was begging to take her place when she was about to be tortured and, for all they knew, killed. And he was screaming for her in a voice that couldn't be faked. And he was crying beside her bed when she woke up in his brother's house.

So she forgave him.

He'd hurt her since then. More than a few times. She was sure that she'd hurt him as well, as they both had a horrible tendency of knowing exactly how to make each other feel awful. They still fought nearly as often as they got along, and sometimes they were downright mean to each other. They were both guilty of it, but, somehow, she felt that that also left them both blameless. It made things easier between them when it came to making up. If they were both at fault, they could just get over it and move on. That's just how their relationship was. But this time it was different.

This time he'd betrayed every single thing she thought she knew about him. She thought she knew everything about him. But apparently she was wrong. The person _she _knew loved her above all else. No matter what, he loved her, and nothing else mattered after that. She couldn't count the number of times he'd told her that he wanted to marry her and have babies with her and spend every day of the rest of their lives with her. Usually he said it under the influence of alcohol or with some sort of ulterior motive, of course, but it always got to her nonetheless, and she always believed him.

But apparently it was all just a lie. Apparently he had no interest in marrying her and had, for all intents and purposes, essentially been jerking her around for nearly seven years and god only knew how many before that. She didn't understand how she could have been so wrong. She didn't know how he could possibly sit there and say that he made a mistake in asking her to marry him if he even loved her half as much as she thought he did. It didn't make any sense.

She lay awake all night. She expected him to follow her right away, but he didn't. It was more than three hours after the argument before he even knocked. If she were asleep, she wouldn't have even heard him because he certainly didn't make a big dramatic deal out of it. He just barely tapped his knuckles against the wood, and when she didn't answer, he finally undid the lock and cracked the door about half a foot. She pretended to be asleep but watched him through the slits of her eyes. He said her name once, as if checking to see if she was awake, and when she didn't reply, he pulled the door closed again and left her there.

She wanted him to come in and loudly beg for her forgiveness and profess his apologies dramatically and tell her how wrong he was and swear that he was just an idiot and hadn't meant any of it. He did none of that. He didn't even try to force her into talking about it. He just left her alone.

At ten o'clock the next morning, she finally forced herself to get out of bed. She hadn't slept at all, but she barely even felt tired. She didn't feel anything really- except numbness. The shower felt cold and unwelcoming, but she stood under the tap for as long as she could stand it. Getting dressed felt like little more than going through a series of motions than anything else. She pulled on some jeans and a jumper and let her soaking hair fall over her shoulders. When she couldn't avoid it anymore, she finally went to the kitchen.

She passed the sitting room on the way, and Ron was passed out on the sofa. Apparently he didn't have any of the same sleeping problems that she had because he was snoring away quite peacefully. She sort of wanted to hex him, but she didn't. Instead, she made as much noise as possible making her morning tea and trying desperately not to remember the events that had occurred the last time she'd made tea. It didn't take long until he roused himself and was standing in the entryway to the kitchen.

She ignored him and pretended not to even see him. He said nothing for several long moments and then finally asked, "Where are you going?"

"We have to go to your parents' house," she said shortly. "It's Christmas." When he said nothing, she turned and finally looked at him. "If you don't want me to go, I won't."

"Hermione-"

"You need to get ready," she said, cutting him off as she grabbed her cup of tea and left the room.

She sat on the sofa where he'd slept because she knew he needed access to their room in order to get ready. She sipped her tea and didn't taste it at all. Her eyes betrayed the rest of her body and felt tired. This was most likely from the night she'd spent in tears, as they stung and even hurt a little bit.

Ron was ready more quickly than she would have guessed. He didn't seem at all enthused at the idea of going to the Burrow, and she honestly couldn't blame him. She would rather be anywhere in the world probably, but if they didn't go, it would only raise suspicion. She didn't feel like having his family nose into her business, so it would be simpler all around if they went and pretended nothing was wrong.

"Get the presents," she said dully, standing up to return her cup to the kitchen. She didn't offer him a cup of his own and poured the kettle's excess into the sink. She had the presents wrapped and bagged up, and he followed her instructions and got them.

She brushed past him on her way back to the bedroom to get her wand, and when she returned, he was standing there holding the bag of gifts and looking at her expectantly.

"Can we talk first?" he asked, and he almost sounded a little bit desperate. She wanted to hit him.

"Seriously," she said firmly, "just leave me alone." He said nothing, but she could see the defeated look in his eyes. "We'll go to Christmas and pretend like everything's normal. But don't touch me or even speak to me unless you _have _to."

"Hermione, _please-"_

But she didn't hear the rest of it because she gripped her wand and Apparated to the Burrow. She felt dizzy the second she arrived and was immediately overcome by the attack on her senses. The smell of baked goods filled the air, lights flashed brightly at her from the Christmas tree, and she was immediately attacked by Victoire who came running toward her full force and shrieking, clearly already on a Christmas sugar high.

It felt like home, and that broke her heart.

"Pick me up! Pick me up!" Victoire shouted loudly, literally bouncing up and down until Hermione had no choice but to follow her orders and lift her off the ground. A second later, Teddy came running into the room and skidded to a halt in front of her.

"No fair," he said bitterly.

"I'm on base!" Vic screamed, apparently quite unable to control the volume of her voice at any level.

Teddy looked at her like she was stupid. "She's not _base!"_

"She is now!" The four year old's voice was so loud in her ear that Hermione literally winced.

"You can't just make up a base, stupid," Teddy huffed, and Hermione looked at him crossly.

"Hey, that's not nice."

Victoire then took it upon herself to wiggle so much that she freed herself and was once again on the ground. Once she was standing, she looked straight at Teddy and raised her eyebrows challengingly. "Yeah, _stupid!" _The she shoved him in the chest and took off running in the direction of the stairs. It took Teddy only a second to chase after her.

Hermione had no idea what had just happened, and she really didn't care.

She didn't have time to even process it, though, because a popping noise distracted her, and Ron somehow managed to Apparate into nearly the exact spot she had. He hesitated when he saw her and then lifted up the bag of presents awkwardly. "Do you want-"

She walked away.

She spent most of the afternoon trying to distract herself. It was easier said than done, and about six different people asked her what was wrong. She finally made up a lie about having a headache. Well, it wasn't exactly a lie, as her head _was _beginning to pound rather painfully, but it certainly wasn't the reason for her quietness. Ron, though, appeared to have listened to her for once, and he left her alone. She didn't think this was too obvious, as he was very much in demand by various members of his family- many of whom he hadn't see in nearly six months. She tried her best to forget he was even there. At one point, though, she happened to catch sight of Harry and him. They had James lying on the sofa between them and were taking turns tickling various parts of his body.

She almost burst into tears.

She didn't get a chance to, though, because Ginny chose that exact moment to show up and literally drag her up the stairs to her room. Hermione thought briefly about attempting to fight her or making up an excuse as to why she needed to stay downstairs, but she couldn't come up with anything. She'd been avoiding Ginny on purpose, but eventually she'd have no choice but to face her.

When they were alone in her bedroom, Ginny pushed Hermione down to the bed and stood over her expectantly. "What's wrong?"

Hermione tried to play dumb. She'd never had too much luck with that particular act. "What are you talking about?"

"Aren't you supposed to be announcing your engagement?"

Hermione said nothing and tried desperately to show no reaction. It was useless, though, and before she could stop it, her eyes filled with tears that immediately spilled down her cheeks. She was surprised that she even had tears left to cry, but they were coming plenty quickly. Ginny stared at her in mild horror before sitting down beside her carefully.

"What happened?" she asked carefully.

And then Hermione had no choice but to tell her the whole story. The words came flooding out of her all at once, and even if she'd been concerned about keeping her silence a few moments earlier, she gave all of that up the second she started talking. She told Ginny all about how he'd all but taken back the engagement proposal just minutes after they'd returned from telling her parents. She told her that he'd suddenly decided that he didn't want to get married. And she told her how she was completely incapable of understanding any of it.

Ginny was shocked. That much was clear. She said nothing for a long moment, just sat there silently staring off into space with a dazed sort of look. Hermione was surprised at her silence, as Ginny normally didn't waste a second in badmouthing Ron. She seemed to have nothing to say to that, though, and she just sat there looking uncomfortable.

"Sorry," Hermione mumbled, wiping furiously at her eyes. She felt silly, and she also felt guilty for making Ginny uncomfortable. Perhaps she'd gone a bit overboard on emotion, but she hadn't been able to control it.

"You should listen to him…" Ginny said it very quietly, and Hermione stared at her in shock.

"_What?!"_

"I don't think he meant it that way," Ginny said, still nearly mumbling because she was speaking so quietly. "He wouldn't do that to you."

"He _did _do it to me, Ginny," Hermione said firmly, feeling a little bit irritated by Ginny's sudden defense of her brother.

"You know he says things without thinking, and sometimes things come out wrong." Ginny was grasping at straws.

"What else could he have _possibly _meant by… _I don't want to marry you because six and a half years is too fast?"_

Ginny had no answer.

"He meant it," Hermione finished. "And I'm done, Ginny. I'm _done."_

She hadn't really felt it until right then, but she knew it was the only way. She wasn't going to be humiliated by him another time in her life. She wasn't going to let him hurt her even once more. She'd had enough, and this was the end of it.

Ginny looked at her finally, and she was surprised to see a sadness there. Ginny looked like _she _might cry, though Hermione had no idea why. "Please don't give up on him, Hermione," she said quietly.

"Why are you _defending _him?" Hermione demanded, suddenly quite angry.

"Because he's my brother," Ginny answered back weakly. "And you're my best friend. And you're supposed to be together, I know it."

"You don't _know _it. No one _knows _those things. They think they do, but then it turns out they're just wrong."

"I know he _loves _you." Ginny's voice was suddenly much stronger. "And I know you love him."

"If you're not going to bash him, I don't want to have this conversation." Hermione was aware that she sounded very much like a spoilt toddler, but she couldn't force herself to care. This was what she got for only hanging around boys. The only females she associated with were related to her boyfriend and were, apparently, unwilling to blindly take her side in an argument like she'd always heard girlfriends were supposed to do.

"Look," Ginny said, and Hermione realized how strange it was for Ginny to be the one pulling the rational/logical crap. "Ron is an idiot." Hermione snorted. Ginny ignored her. "You know that better than anyone. But you also know that he loves you more than anything else in the world."

"Did you listen to _anything _I told you?!" Hermione asked, very close to hysteria. She stared at Ginny incredulously, but Ginny remained calm.

"Make him grovel if you want. Do whatever you want to, Hermione, but don't just give up on him. At least hear him out."

"Why should I?"

"Because he needs you."

"What about what _I _need?"

Hermione never got the answer to that question, though, because they were interrupted.

For the second time in as many hours, a soft knock was heard against the door. Hermione knew who it was before he even pushed the door open. Ron had obviously seen them go upstairs and had finally got up enough balls to join them. He stood looking at them guiltily, as if he knew exactly what sort of jackass he was. Hermione almost got up and left, but Ginny beat her to it. She gave Ron a bit of a dirty look on her way out of the bedroom, so Hermione was thankful she at least had the decency for that. Still, she was not thankful at all to be left alone in the room with the very last person she wanted to talk to.

Ron didn't say anything for what seemed like twelve hours. Hermione didn't, either, of course, but she was staying silent out of principle. Ron was staying silent out of idiocy. There was a big difference. Finally, though, he crossed the room and sat down beside her. There was another extended moment of silence, and then he kissed her.

The second she realized what was happening, of course, she jerked away and glared at him. She opened her mouth to let him have it, but he cut her off. "No, wait," he said quickly, and then he kissed her again, this time catching the back of her head and literally pulling her into him and holding her there. As much as she wanted to hate him right then, she knew exactly what he was doing. And she let him do it.

It was a slow kiss, but there was a point to it. She found herself unable to breathe, and while she didn't kiss him back, she certainly didn't pull away. His lips were so familiar against her own, and she didn't even have the strength to fight it. Or pretend like she wanted to.

When he pulled away, he kept his face close to hers for a moment longer, and she could feel his breath against her chin. The air was stilled around them, and she forced herself to keep focused and to ignore the way his eyes were searching hers seriously.

"I know you felt that." His voice was low and almost accusatory. She ignored him.

She wasn't going to admit to feeling anything. It didn't matter if she couldn't remember how to make her lungs work, and it didn't matter if she'd literally felt the kiss to the tip of her toes. It didn't matter because it didn't _change _anything. He'd kissed her a million times in the past, and he'd still broken her heart. It didn't _matter._

Ron leaned back finally, straightening up and looking up toward the ceiling for a moment as if he were gathering his thoughts. She couldn't see how that particular act could take too long, but she stared at him expectantly. She knew her gaze was icy and hateful, but she didn't care.

"I don't know what to say to you," he finally said, not quite meeting her eyes as his own lowered from the ceiling and moved across the room aimlessly.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well, _that's _not it, trust me."

He looked at her then, almost sharply. She thought for a second that he was going to snap back at her, but his eyes softened almost immediately. "I love you."

"Stop," she said, already feeling herself get angrier by the second. "Just stop."

He seemed not to have heard her. "I don't know why last night happened."

_That _pushed her over the edge. She jumped to her feet then and turned around to glare at him, glad that she was taller than him for this angle. It made her feel more in control. "It _happened," _she sneered, "because you suddenly decided you didn't want me anymore! And you decided that _after _I told my parents we were getting married and _after _I'd already got my hopes up!"

"I _never _decided that!" His voice wasn't loud or angered- it was just firm. "I don't know why I let it come out like that, but that's not it at _all!"_

"Then what is it?" she demanded, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. "What the _hell _is it?!"

He looked uncomfortable, and she couldn't help feeling a little bit happy at his uneasiness. It pleased her that at least he wasn't just breezing through this carelessly. He took forever to answer, but he finally managed to get some words together.

"I just wish that I had more to give you…"

She didn't know what he was talking about, and, truthfully, she didn't care. He was making up excuses now, and she kind of wanted to hit him. She wasn't going to fall prey to the pity party she could already tell he was about to throw himself. She'd been around him long enough to recognize telltale signs of self-deprecation, and she absolutely hated it. That was one of those traits they were supposed to leave at the door back when they were seventeen. She had no sympathy for it.

"I don't know why you don't understand that none of that means _anything _to me!" she very nearly shouted. "I don't know what you wish you had to give, but you should know me well enough to know that I don't want it!"

He said nothing.

She didn't know how to respond to his silence. She wanted him to shout back and argue or do _something, _but he just sat there looking miserable. "Say something!" she demanded hatefully.

But Ron just looked at her. "What am I supposed to say?" he asked dully. "I fucked up."

Sometimes she couldn't believe him- she couldn't even _understand _him. She didn't know why he had to be that way. It infuriated her to the point of being unable to comprehend the situation. More than that, though, it devastated her.

"Why would you want to hurt me like this?" she asked, almost desperately. She felt so horrible, so _betrayed, _she couldn't understand it.

Ron, though, seemed to snap out of his daze at that. he looked at her a bit fiercely. "I didn't _want _to hurt you," he said firmly. "I haven't _wanted _to hurt you since I was about thirteen, but I have a pretty damn good talent at it!"

"Then fix this!" She threw her arms around her chest and was reminded again of a spoilt toddler. She was also well-aware of the fact that she was making herself out to sound like a crazy person on the brink of hysteria.

Ron, however, didn't care if she was growing crazy. He could handle her like this. He'd done so many times in the past. "I didn't mean for this to happen." She could tell he was being honest, but she didn't care. It didn't change the fact that he'd hurt her so badly she couldn't even comprehend it. "I was just angry last night, and I let it come out."

"Angry at _what?" _she asked shrilly. "I didn't do anything to you!"

"Angry at myself!"

"For what? For being a bastard?" She knew she was hitting low, but she didn't care.

He ignored her, though. "Angry because I know how much you deserve, and I know I'm not giving it to you. I don't know if I can _ever _give it to you."

She wanted to throttle him. "I _have _everything I need!" She was ready to pull her hair out. "We may not have all the luxuries in the world, but we have enough, and we always do just fine!" She couldn't understand why he was so unhappy with their life. She got frustrated sometimes, too, but never to the point where she would consider hurting him the way he'd hurt her. And things weren't nearly as horrible as he was trying to make them out to be.

"You have less now than you've had in your entire life. And that's _my _fault because I'm supposed to take care of you."

She didn't know whether to be touched or offended. In the end, she decided she was still angry and went with offended. "I'm not an invalid! I take care of myself!"

She could tell that he was getting just as frustrated with her as she was with him. "I _know _that, I just want you to have better than what we've got right now." She opened her mouth to say something else, but he cut her off. He stood up, and she got annoyed that he was once again taller than she was. "Hermione, you're the only thing I've ever had in my whole life that's worth anything."

She wanted to hate him, but it was really hard sometimes. She couldn't think of anything to say right away, but it didn't matter because instead of towering over her, he lowered himself to one knee.

"I want you to have better." She started to interrupt him, but he didn't give her the opportunity. "I don't know if I'm ever going to do anything to deserve you, but I want to spend every day for the rest of my life trying." He swallowed quickly, and she watched as he reached into the pocket of his jeans and once again pulled out her ring. His voice was so quiet she could barely hear him as he said, "Please take this back. Please marry me this summer."

She wasn't aware that her eyes were watering until she felt a tear slide down her cheek. He was looking at her so sincerely that she had no choice but to believe every word that came out of his mouth. She could tell that he hated himself for what had happened and that he was being completely honest with her. She had to respect the fact that he wasn't making any sort of excuses or trying to lay the blame anywhere else. He understood what happened and why she was upset, and he was doing his best to make things right. Most importantly, he wasn't lying to her.

She forgave him then, giving him her hand so that he could slip the ring back on. She hadn't realized how used she'd got to it until it was gone. Now that it was back, she wasn't sure anything had ever fit so perfectly.

He looked relieved as he finally stood up. "Thank you," he said quietly, and she just looked at him as tears still cascaded down her cheeks. He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her. She let him, finally relaxing, though she still felt overwhelmed by what seemed to be a million different emotions. They didn't say anything for a long time, and then she felt his mouth at her ear. "I'm sorry." It was just a whisper.

She believed him. In fact, she felt the need to make a confession of her own. "I told Ginny," she mumbled.

Instead of getting angry, as she'd imagined he would, he said, "I told Harry. So we're even."

She leaned back, half-joking, though she was certainly still emotional and said, "Oh, we're nowhere _near e_ven, but on this, yes."

He just nodded, and then he kissed her. She really, truly felt like everything was alright again.

Later, when they went back downstairs and finally announced the news, they were met with tons of congratulations and hugs and love. It seemed as if everyone was happy for them, and Hermione was more sure than ever that she was exactly where she needed to be. Every time she caught Ron's eye, he smiled at her, a soft, secret sort of smile.

If she needed any extra proof, though, she got it when she was caught up by Mrs. Weasley who hugged her so tightly that she thought she might suffocate. She didn't seem to want to let her go, and when she finally did, she gently pushed some hair out of Hermione's eyes and smiled at her warmly.

"I already got Harry this year," she said fondly, squeezing her once more. "Now I'm going to have you, too." Hermione was surprised to see her eyes watering just a bit. "I'm finally _really _going to have all my kids."

Hermione didn't know what to say to that, but there was something in it that said more than anything else could have. It meant more to her than she was really able to express, and she smiled back and let herself be hugged again.

And then she _knew _it was all okay.

* * *

A/N: Whew, hope you made it all the way through! That was a long one! Please review!!


	36. Restless Reasoning

**BACK THE BEGINNING**

**Chapter 36**

**RESTLESS REASONING**

* * *

A month and a half into it, Ginny was finally beginning to understand why people often said motherhood was a full time job.

She found herself exhausted and unable to find even a few minutes to herself during the day. Even though James slept a lot, she always seemed to have something else lined up during his naps. Not to mention, of course, she felt the need to check on him nearly constantly to make sure that he was alright and still breathing and not kidnapped or something else horrible like that.

He always was.

Still, even though she was fully tired and over the initial giddiness of thinking of every single time her baby opened his eyes as a tiny miracle, she still thought he was the best thing ever. So she didn't mind all the extra work and all the missed hours of sleep. It was worth it because he was starting to do things like smile at her sometimes and make funny little noises. She was happier than she'd ever been in her whole entire life, and she really couldn't believe how much she was loving every single second of it.

Of course, there were still moments when she'd rather sleep than do anything else. Moments like 4 AM when she'd only been asleep for an hour before he woke up for the third time in one night. She thought he was probably very smart because when he woke up from his numerous naps during the day, he usually just whimpered a bit until she got to him and tended to whatever needed to be tended to. In the middle of the night, though, he nearly always woke up screaming.

When she first heard the familiar shrieking, she tried to ignore it. She kept her eyes squeezed tightly closed as if that would somehow make him stop and fall straight back to sleep. It didn't, of course, and it wasn't long before she heard the most obvious statement in the world.

"James is awake…"

Ginny opened one her eyes then and looked over at Harry who still hadn't managed to open his own. "I'm glad you're not deaf," she said nastily.

They both lay there for another several moments as the cries from the other room seemed to grow even louder. Finally, Harry opened his eyes, too, and they stared at each other.

"Can you go get him?" she asked, trying to sound as pitiful as possible. "Please? I just got to bed."

He looked as tired as she felt, but he only stayed there for a few seconds before fumbling around for his glasses and getting up. She knew she should feel bad because he had to be up for work in just a couple of hours, but she couldn't make her body feel motivated enough to move, much less get up and go all the way into the nursery. It didn't take long, though, for Harry to return with the baby. Instead of staying up with the baby until he fell back to sleep, Harry just brought him back to the bed, propped him up on some pillows and stuck a bottle in his mouth as his own eyes fell back shut..

Ginny rolled her eyes. As thankful as she was that she had someone who was willing to get up and get her son in the middle of the night, she would have been happier if that person stayed awake long enough to feed him. She gave up on going back to sleep herself and took the bottle out of Harry's grip and held it up so that James could at least drink properly out of it. He was on the pillow and resting in the crook of his dad's arm. The hand that had previously been feeding him had now dropped haphazardly onto the pillow beside his head. James looked over at her as he ate, and she couldn't help smiling. It really was an adorable picture-perfect little scene of her boys, even if Harry was already asleep again. James seemed to read her mind, and she decided that he agreed with her that his dad should have the decency to at least feed him. But they weren't going to hold it against him.

"Why don't you want to sleep?" she whispered quietly. "Mummy wants to. And Daddy does. Obviously," she added, feigning bitterness.

James didn't answer, of course, but his eyes were wide and searched hers intently. They were turning brown. His hair was fuzzy and dark red. He looked like her. Everyone said so, and she saw it, too, when she looked at him. Still, though, she thought he looked a lot like Harry, too, even if he didn't share the obvious features. She wondered if maybe it was a good thing that he didn't look exactly like him. She'd spent a lot of time recently thinking about what James's life was going to be like, and she had a feeling that he was going to under a ton of pressure once he got to a certain age. She tried to convince herself that it wouldn't be like that, but she knew it probably would. People would expect him to be just like his dad, and he was going to scrutinized more closely than normal kids would be. She knew that, and even though it was years off, it already worried her. So overall, it was probably best if he didn't look like an exact clone of his dad. Maybe he would have a chance of making his own life and his own name. At least, ideally, that's what she envisioned.

It was strange, sort of, to look at a tiny little baby and think that one day he was going to be grown up. One day he would be heading off to Hogwarts, and then one day he'd be grown up and getting married. It was just weird to imagine. She even almost felt sad thinking about it, shocked at how quickly time had already passed. She loved him being this little, and she didn't like to think about how fast he was already growing. He blinked at her, and she couldn't help smiling and leaning over to kiss his nose. He ignored her and kept right on eating greedily.

Eventually, his eyes started growing heavy, and they closed. He kept eating for a few minutes before she knew he was asleep. She took the bottle from him and set it on her bedside table. She thought about getting up and putting him back in his own bed, but she was tired. Besides, a couple of hours with them wasn't going to hurt. She smoothed down his hair and let herself fall back to sleep as well.

It seemed like she was immediately waking back up. In fact, she wasn't even positive she'd been asleep at all. She was a very light sleeper, and the sound of the closet door closing seemed to be what had woken her. The bed was empty beside her, and she rolled over toward the direction of the noise and saw Harry pulling a shirt over his head.

"Where's James?" she asked sleepily, one-hundred percent certain that he'd been lying beside her when she drifted to sleep.

Harry seemed startled to hear her, and he jumped a little bit. Once he'd recovered, he said, "I put him back in his bed."

"Is he awake?"

He shook his head and ran his fingers through damp hair. It was a useless effort- his hair stood up everywhere no matter what. "He woke up for a second. I changed him, and then he went right back down."

"What time is it?"

He looked at his watch. "6:22."

6:22. Who the hell was up at this hour? No one in their right mind, that was for sure. She wondered if she'd slept a total of three hours the entire night. Probably not.

"You look too tired to go to work," she said, pushing herself into a sitting position and pulling her knees up to her chest under the blanket.

"I'm too tired to _move," _he corrected.

She held her arms open. "Come here."

He hesitated, obviously knowing that he needed to get a move on if he wanted to make it on time. But he finally humored her, coming back over and sitting down in front of her. She hugged him, and his head fell forward heavily onto the top of his shoulder.

"You should stay home with us," she said brightly, playing with his still-wet hair.

"I wish." He was mumbling, and she felt both of his arms around her waist. She let her legs fall back in front of her. She knew he couldn't stay home, but she really wished he could. "What're you doing today?"

"Babysitting."

"Babysitting?" he repeated, lifting his head and looking at her questioningly.

"Yeah, Angelina's trying to get everything together for Fred's birthday party, and she asked me to come over and watch him so she could actually get something accomplished." She couldn't really believe it'd been nearly a full year since Fred was born, but his first birthday was rapidly approaching.

"Better you than me," Harry said lazily, finally sitting up a bit more. He kept his arms around her waist, though, and she didn't want him to let go.

She kissed him, moving both of her hands to his chin and bringing his face forward to meet her own. Then she let her forehead drop forward to rest against his own, and they stared at each other. His eyes were the most brilliant shade of green she'd ever seen, and sometimes she felt like she could stare at them forever and never get sick of it. "Hurry up and come home," she said.

He left soon after that, and she went about her normal morning routine. She was actually able to get a shower in before James woke up- just whimpering, of course, now that she was actually awake and not in the midst of trying to catch her own bit of sleep. She got him fed and properly bundled, and then they took off to George and Angelina's.

George was gone by the time they arrived, and Angelina looked as if she'd just woken up a few minutes before. She was still in her nightclothes and was at the table attempting to feed some sort of disgusting-looking yellow concoction to her son who was seated in a highchair beside the table. Fred, however, seemed completely against the idea of the yellow mush and wasn't doing much in the way of opening his mouth.

"You're up and about rather early," Angelina remarked as Ginny made her way into the kitchen and heaved the baby carrier onto the table.

"It's nearly eight o'clock," she said, wondering when the hell she started thinking of eight o'clock as _late. _

Angelina said nothing, just strained her neck to get a look into the carrier. "Trade you," she said, flashing a quick smile as she stood up and handed Ginny the spoon and tiny jar of mush. Ginny didn't have time to protest before Angelina was undoing the straps on the carrier and lifting James out.

Ginny sniffed at the jar and wrinkled her nose. It smelled like rotting shit. "Ugh, what the hell is this?"

"Bananas."

"It's _rubbish," _Ginny said flatly. "Why don't you feed him a real banana?"

Angelina was bouncing James gently as he rested against her shoulder. She didn't seem too concerned with the fact that her own son was going to starve to death just because he had enough sense not to eat something that smelled as if it'd dropped out of someone's arse on a particularly hot day. "Because babies are supposed to eat baby food," she said breezily. "I think."

Ginny rolled her eyes and took it upon herself to chuck the jar into the bin. Then she grabbed an actual banana off the counter and started peeling it. Angelina didn't protest, nor was she even paying much attention. Ginny broke the banana in half as she sat down in the recently vacated chair and offered it to Fred. He took it eagerly and started shoving it into his mouth. He was going to make a mess, but at least he was eating.

Fred was getting big. It didn't seem very long ago that he was James's size, and now he was feeding himself and blabbering about mindlessly. He was an awfully cute kid- with a head _full _of dark curls that fell down into his face. He had huge brown eyes and long dark eyelashes- he was really _beautiful. _Angelina liked to say he was so pretty he could be a girl. Everyone told her to leave that "compliment" behind once he got old enough to understand it.

He gnawed on the banana but kept his eyes trained on his mum who was bouncing another baby and smoothing down his unruly hair. Ginny found it amusing, imagining that he was probably jealous and secretly plotting baby mutiny against the newborn.

"Do you like your cousin, Freddy?" she asked playfully, and he looked over at her curiously. Then he answered her in some sort of baby-speak that she couldn't imagine was very flattering.

Angelina seemed to take notice of this as well, and she pulled up a chair and sat down beside them. "See the baby?" she asked Fred, moving James until he was lying on his back in her arms. "Can you say _Baby?"_

Fred said nothing then, just reached a pudgy little banana-covered hand out toward the baby. Angelina caught it before he could smear smushed fruit all over the younger child, and she shook her head. "You have to be _careful," _she said slowly. "_Gentle."_

Fred ignored her completely and turned his attention back to the banana at hand. "That kid doesn't listen to anything," Angelina said, leaning back in her chair and running a finger down the bridge of James's nose. "He used to be sweet like this…"

"I know his dad," Ginny said seriously. "I highly doubt he was ever sweet."

Angelina smiled and lifted one shoulder. "Well, he was at least quieter."

"You've got your work cut out for you," Ginny said, reaching over and lifting Fred out of his highchair. "This little bugger's going to be a troublemaker."

"You better watch out yourself. You'll jinx yourself, and this one will turn out to be the hellion."

Ginny just shook her head confidently. "Nope," she said firmly. "He's too sweet." She stood Fred on her lap and turned her attention to him instead. "Can I have a cuddle?" she asked, and she smiled as he leaned his head down and laid it against her shoulder. She hugged him tightly and tickled his ribs a little bit.

"You want to show Aunt Ginny how you can walk?" Angelina asked, leaning forward to push some hair out of her son's eyes. Ginny pulled back and held him out a bit.

"You gonna show me?" His eyes searched her out, but she turned him around and set him down to his feet. She offered her forefingers to him, and he clutched them tightly as he bounced in place.

"Show her how you walk," Angelina repeated, shifting James a bit so that she could lean down to Fred's level and address him directly. He let go of one of Ginny's fingers and reached a hand out toward his mum. She sat back up, and he apparently took that as his cue to toddle over to her. Ginny smiled as he wobbled unsteadily before taking a few steps and finally falling face forward into Angelina's lap. "That was great!" she said excitedly, ruffling his hair as he lifted his head and grinned at her.

"I can't believe how big he is," Ginny said seriously.

"I know." Angelina kept one hand on his head as he used her lap as leverage for more bouncing. "It's already been a year."

Ginny still wasn't entirely sure how George and Angelina had even happened. It seemed almost to come out of nowhere, and when it began, she wasn't positive how long it would actually last. They'd known each other for years, of course, and they'd always been good mates, but it had never been more than that. At least not as far as Ginny knew. In fact, if any of her brothers had a bit of a thing for Angelina, Ginny would have sworn it was Fred, not George. He at least flirted with her from time to time, though it was probably never in an entirely serious sort of way. No, Angelina was just a good Quidditch mate as far as anyone knew- or at least as far as Ginny knew.

George actually dated another girl for a couple of years after the war. She was much more stereotypical of the sort of girl one would expect him to go for- very beautiful but not entirely all that intelligent. Everyone figured they'd end up getting married, but it never happened that way. They broke up, and then George was suddenly bringing Angelina around. Six months later, they were getting married- it all happened very quickly. They made each other happy, though, so it all worked out. Angelina knew him well enough to know what she was getting into beforehand, so that probably helped when it came down to actually putting up with him. Also, she was very independent and strong-willed, so that probably helped when it came to dealing with the fact that he was running a very successful business and had to be away quite a bit. Plus, she _got _him. She knew he was an idiot going in, and she had enough of a sense of humor to stay relatively amused by his antics. And she knew Fred, too. She knew Fred and she knew FredAndGeorge, and Ginny thought that probably helped her relate in a way that a lot of other girls wouldn't be able to.

And out of all her sisters-in-law, Angelina was _definitely _the best one. Or at least she would be until that summer when Hermione took over that role- if she and Ron actually made it that far, of course. Only time would tell on that front…

"I miss him being this size," Angelina remarked, nodding down at James who now had one eye open and was staring at Fred.

"You should have another one then." Ginny was only half-joking. "You want to hurry up if you want to fit into the _one every two years_ crowd." That was apparently how it worked in their family, as both Fleur and Audrey had produced their children nearly exactly two years apart.

Angelina, though, seemed to have other plans. "I think I'll wait about seven or eight, thanks," she said seriously. "I'm in no hurry to have more right now. They become a lot more difficult once they start finding ways to get around on their own."

Ginny didn't blame her. She didn't have any immediate plans to start producing more any time soon. She was perfectly content with the one she had. She honestly thought it was a bit silly to have children in such a hurry. Her mum had done it like that- with the longest difference between any of the kids being three years- and she hadn't known when to stop apparently. Ginny wondered if Fleur planned on having seven children. Just the thought alone was enough to amuse her.

"So how're you doing?" Angelina asked, looking up from the babies. "I mean, everything going okay?"

Ginny nodded. "Yeah. Just haven't slept too much, of course, but it's not so bad."

"And how's Harry holding up?"

Ginny laughed a little and shrugged. "He's working a lot. You know how he constantly has to be doing something, or the world will fall apart."

"He probably thinks it's the only thing he _can _do."

She was right, of course. Ginny knew why Harry was working the hours that he was. It made him feel like he was contributing because he didn't feel confident enough with the whole bottles and nappies thing. The truth, though, was that he was _fine _with it. He was good with the baby and more than sufficient at being a dad, but he didn't think so. He was the type of person who would constantly find faults with himself even when there were none to find. He had a complex about him that made him constantly feel the need to do something amazing above and beyond. Sometimes it was endearing. Sometimes it was exhausting.

"Well, he's working himself to death." Ginny smiled down at Fred as he came toddling back to her, and she caught him easily right as he started to topple over. He laughed, and she picked him up. "I just wish he'd give himself a break."

"I think if you're waiting on _that _man to give himself a break, you're going to be waiting a _long _time."

This was true, too. Ginny knew that, and, it seemed, so did everyone else. Of course, it was easy for everyone else to look at Harry and just see someone with a constant need to please everyone and do something important and be some kind of _hero _just because that's who he was. Or who he thought he had to be anyway. But Ginny, and maybe a few other people, knew that it went deeper than that. Harry didn't just think he had to live up to some _destiny- _he thought he had to make up things that had nothing to do with him. Or at least things that he had no control over.

She could have predicted it, and maybe she did. He hadn't come out and said it, but she could see what was going on. He felt inadequate as a father because he didn't feel that he'd had any sort of proper training at it. He had no real models to follow, and that bothered him and made him feel even more lost than normal first time parents would feel. So he felt that he should back out of the picture some and do what he did best, which was work. He was certainly a hard worker and always had been. No one ever accused him of being a slacker- no one except maybe Hermione maybe, and that was a long time ago when the most important work they were doing was Transfiguration or some other such nonsense. But yes, he was a hard worker. He was devoted and determined and would always try his hardest no matter what. He would push himself to the edge and back, and he'd always been that way. So it was easy for her to see what was going on and imagine the workings of his head in the reasoning behind it all.

In a way, it made her love how devoted he was and how he would try no matter what. A bigger part of her, though, was saddened by the fact that even after everything he'd done in his life, he still didn't feel adequate enough. She wished he could just be happy for once and just enjoy it the way she was. But she knew it was different for him. He felt more pressure than she did, and nothing she could say would change any of that. So she just let him do what made him feel useful.

Eventually, he would realize that he didn't have to work so hard, and things would all come together in the end. She knew they would. He just needed a bit of time.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading!


	37. Inexplicable Injustice

**BACK TO THE BEGINNING**

**Chapter 37**

**INEXPLICABLE INJUSTICE**

* * *

The Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures held a weekly department meeting every Wednesday morning to discuss the current happenings and progress of the team. It was mandatory and usually ended up lasting a good two or three hours.

Hermione hated it.

She normally found it extremely boring and pointless. Their department was rather small to begin with, so it wasn't as if there was a ton of information that needed to be shared amongst them that wasn't already common knowledge before the meeting. Everyone pretty much knew what everyone else was up to, and there wasn't much of a need for discussion. Still, they always managed to spend far too long in the meetings, which, of course, always put the rest of the day terribly behind schedule.

On that particular Wednesday, though, Hermione was seated in the conference room with the rest of her team when a very controversial issue was brought to the table. They were discussing recent amendments proposed to the werewolf regulations. There'd been a good bit of media coverage on the issue recently because two young children in Leeds were attacked by a werewolf over Christmas in a highly publicized story. It was horrible, of course, but there wasn't much else to the story, so Hermione couldn't understand why it was getting so much attention. Regardless, it had caught the attention of many anti-werewolf extremist groups who were using the recent attack as the latest ammunition in their war of propaganda and lies. Unfortunately, there was also evidence that it was relatively successful.

"Not only do they need to be registered, they need to have containment spells placed on their homes every full moon." Mallory McDougal was speaking in a way that let everyone know she had no plans whatsoever of listening to anyone else's opinion.

"I think that's a bit extreme." She was opposed by Nicholas Garfunkle, a relatively new addition to the department. He was just a few years out of Hogwarts and was, so far, usually not a very vocal member. Today, though, he was apparently giving that up. "Containment charms are a breach of basic human rights."

"They're not _humans!" _Mallory snapped back. "They're beasts who sometimes take on human form."

"That's backwards," Nick said flatly. "They were humans before they were attacked. They are humans the majority of the time."

"Before they were attacked…" Mallory seemed to scoff at him. "Don't tell me you're one of those people who view them as victims!"

"If a man attacks another man, is the second one not a victim?"

Mallory rolled her eyes. "They're not men. They give up that right the second they become infected."

"That's true." Another woman, Elena Prutsforn, agreed with Mallory. That wasn't surprising, seeing as how they were mates and were equally dimwitted. Hermione had a strong dislike for them both. "Werewolves lack any and all human emotion after they are turned. They might occasionally still function in society, but they are incapable of emotion of conscience."

Hermione could no longer hold her tongue. "Oh, that's not true," she said, rolling her eyes and speaking up for the first time the entire meeting. "You've obviously never met a werewolf, or you would realize how ridiculous that statement sounds."

Elena looked offended, and she sat up rather straighter in her chair and crossed her hands in front of her. "I have no desire to meet a werewolf," she said smugly. "I value my safety too much to socialize with that sort of monster."

"What did you do? Steal Dolores Umbridge's memoir and take notes?" Hermione felt a stab of satisfaction as Elena and half the table gasped in shock. Umbridge was notorious amongst Ministry employees, and her beliefs were well-known and generally condemned as ignorant and small-minded. "That's exactly who you sound like."

"You've no right to say that!"

"And you've no right to make such ignorant statements about an entire species of people!"

"They aren't people!"

Hermione resisted the urge to just get up and leave. She hated these meetings even more when they turned into silly arguments. For the most part, her team tried to _stop _oppression of other species, but there were times when things turned ugly. "How would you like," she asked evenly, "if someone told you that you had to be registered with the Ministry and monitored just because your hair is blonde and some known Death Eaters were blonde?" Her mind flashed immediately to the Malfoys, but she was diplomatic enough not to name names. "Just because some werewolves are evil does not mean the entirety of them are! Most of them are just victims of circumstance, and we should be doing something to _help _them, not oppress them!"

Elena rolled her eyes, and Mallory stepped back in. "I'm not listening to the bleeding heart excuses on this one," she said venomously. "Let's put it to a vote." She stood up to address the entire table. "All those in favor of preparing a new werewolf control proposal?" Most of the table raised their hands, and Hermione glared at them all. "All those opposed?" Her hand shot into the air, along with Nick's and one other man's. They were clearly the minority.

"Good," Elena took back over. "Now let's do an outline. We all agree on the registration issue?" All the idiots who voted yes nodded their agreement, and Elena jotted something down into her book. "I'd also propose to take it one step further. Anyone who has been bitten by a werewolf, even those not bitten under a full moon, should also register themselves. Just for security issues, of course, because there's no guarantee that they aren't at least somewhat infected."

A murmur broke out, and one man named Richard posed what was probably an honest question. "What happens if someone's attacked when there's no full moon? The wolf wouldn't be fully transformed, would it? So what happens if it attacks while in human form?"

"Nothing happens!" Hermione jumped up, not at all prepared to stand for _this. _"The people are horribly scarred and have to spend the rest of their lives with people staring at them and whispering behind their backs! They aren't _infected!" _She spewed the word hatefully.

"You can't prove that."

"The hell I can't" Hermione rolled her eyes for what seemed like the millionth time that morning. "There are plenty of people in that very situation! Go find any of them and see for yourself!"

"Didn't one of the Weasleys get attacked?" Elena asked the question, and the tone of her voice very clearly said that she didn't care in the least. However, the question successfully turned every eye at the table toward Hermione. "Is that why you're so opposed?"

Hermione glared at her but was determined to stand her ground. "Yes," she said firmly. "He did. Eight years ago. And _nothing _has happened except that he has to deal with people staring everywhere he goes."

"Well, no one could blame you for wanting to protect your own family. Or _nearly _family," Elena corrected herself with a quick glance to the ring on Hermione's finger. Hermione immediately crossed her arms in a way that hid her hand, though she didn't even know why.

"Protect him from _what?" _she asked hatefully. "From ignorant matters like these? Of course I would!"

Elena ignored the jab. "Protect him from being forced to reveal things he'd rather keep secret," she said calmly. "And doesn't he have children? They should probably also be examined. For their own safety, of course. Perhaps any illnesses of their own would be easily treatable."

"Don't you-" Hermione couldn't even get the sentence out before Mallory was breaking back in.

"Not just them, of course. Any children who might find themselves as the direct descendant of a werewolf or of someone infected by a werewolf attack. It would probably be a good precautionary measure just to have them examined."

Hermione was done. She wasn't going to stay there for one more second and listen to the idiocy these people were spewing. "I'm leaving," she announced forcefully. "This is ridiculous and _wrong, _and I refuse to have any part in it."

"So is that your resignation?" Elena sounded a little too eager. Hermione ignored her completely and walked out of the room. She was literally _fuming. _She couldn't remember being so angry in a very long time, and she was actually a bit scared by her own reaction.

She didn't stop at her desk. She just kept walking and turned down one corridor after another until she reached the lifts. She didn't even think as she got on and headed down to the next level. She wasn't even fully aware of where she was headed until the doors opened and she headed straight down the corridor to the Auror department. She was furious, and her head was swimming. She didn't even feel as though she could think straight.

She found Harry at his desk in a somewhat deserted department. There weren't a lot of reasons for Aurors to stay chained to their desks, so it wasn't unusual to find the place rather empty. There were a few other people around, but they were all concentrating deeply on whatever paperwork they were currently immersed in. Harry was, too, but he looked up when she reached him and leaned backwards against his desk.

"What's wrong?"

She guessed that her face must have been rather useless in hiding her current emotional state. She blinked a couple of times and then said, "I think I just quit my job."

Harry said nothing for a few moments and just stared at her. Finally, he managed a very confused, "What?"

Hermione let out a very loud sigh and took the chair that Harry Summoned over for her. "I don't know if I did," she said distractedly. "But I just got up in the middle of our department meeting and walked out after telling them I wanted nothing to do with their latest project."

"What's the project?"

She felt herself glowering just thinking about it. "They won't to put more regulations on werewolves and put them under containment charms every fully moon. They also want anyone who has ever been bitten by a werewolf, whether transformed or not, to register themselves with the Ministry and be monitored. _And _they want their kids to submit to physical examinations to make sure that they're not _infected." _

Harry stared at her, his eyes slightly wider than usual. "Are you serious? Do they realize how ridiculous that is?"

"No! They all kept going on and on about how they weren't humans and how they needed to be contained. And then they pretty much came out and said the only reason I'm concerned is because one of the _Weasleys _must have something to hide."

"Bill?"

"Well, of course! And then they started talking about Vic and Dominique, too!"

"They'll never get something like that passed. It's stupid."

"And just imagine what they'll want to do to kids like Teddy!"

Something in Harry's eye changed at that. "They're not going to do anything to him," he said firmly. "Or Victoire or Dominique _or _Bill. They're idiots if they think any of that will go over."

"It did before," Hermione said glumly, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. "Who's to say it won't happen again?"

"That was before." Harry was speaking in a way that let her know he was none too thrilled at the prospect of anyone coming 'round to poke and prod Teddy like some sort of science experiment. "Things're different now. They wouldn't get away with it."

"Yeah, well, I don't even want any part in them trying." She glanced away for a few seconds and then looked back at him. "We're broke."

It was obvious that he wasn't expecting that sort of statement, and, truthfully, she hadn't even really meant to say it. Putting it out there… out loud like that… made it seem a lot more real. She hadn't admitted it verbally before, not even to Ron, and hearing it out loud scared her a little bit.

"Like… completely?" Harry sounded awkward and nervous, and she couldn't really blame him.

Still, though, she nodded. "We haven't got any money. What we _did _have… is gone. I tried to stretch it as far as possible, but it's run out."

She'd received the latest bank statement just three days before and had been shocked at how depleted the account was. If it weren't for the fact that she got paid the next day, it would literally have gone into the negative. It terrified her because while they'd never had a ton, they'd never been _completely_ skint, either.

"Don't say anything," she said quickly, looking up at him seriously. She didn't have to specify to what, or rather to _whom, _she was referring. "I'll make it work. He'll just stress out about it."

Harry didn't say anything, but she could tell he was thinking how awful she was to be keeping secrets like that. She didn't care. She didn't need a lecture.

"I'll take care of it," she said again. "I'll ask my parents for help or something if I need to. He'll just worry about it, and there's no need for it."

"Don't you think you should at least let him know you're struggling? If you borrow money from your parents, you should probably let him know. It's his problem, too."

Harry was being logical, and she hated that. She was the logical one, and when she decided to step away from reality for a moment or two, she didn't need anyone dragging her back in. "Harry, he didn't even want to marry me because we've got no money." She put it out there bluntly and watched his reaction closely.

"He never didn't want to marry you," Harry corrected her without even missing a beat. "He was just worried that he didn't have enough to give you or something. You know how he is."

Of course Harry was defending Ron. He nearly always did. Anyway, it didn't matter because she'd made up her mind not to dwell on the Christmas disaster anymore. She'd even promised Ron that she wouldn't bring it up again and that she was willing to just leave it behind. That, of course, was easier said than done because she still harbored a tiny bit of resentment that he would be so careless with her feelings, even if he _did _stupidly think he was doing something noble. She hadn't been that hurt in a very long time, and it was taking her a little while to get past it. She was also a bit scared that he was going to change his mind again. It would be very easy for him to just flip as quickly as he did the first time, and she'd be lying if she said the thought wasn't one that had worried her. Opening up the bank statement and seeing the reality of their current financial situation only added to that worry.

"Please don't say anything," she said again. "It's fine, I just needed someone to talk to."

Harry nodded, but she could tell it was a bit begrudgingly. He didn't agree with her secretiveness, and she knew it. She didn't care too much, though. She didn't need advice, she just needed a friend.

"Harry, I can't quit my job," she said quietly. He looked at her rather sympathetically, and she knew he understood that much at least. "But I don't know how I'm supposed to just stand by and watch those sorts of things happen, either."

"They won't get anywhere with it," he assured her. "No one's going to let that sort of shit pass."

He was probably right, but it didn't do much to make her feel better. "But I don't want anything to do with _any _of it. Anything they do… My name's going to be associated with it, and I don't want that. It goes against everything we tried to do."

He nodded and looked sorry for her.

"I don't know what to do." She realized that her voice was edging on whining, but she was extremely stressed and felt like she could cry at any second if she really wanted to. Harry apparently saw this, and he hugged her, reaching forward just enough to draw her closer. It felt nice, and she exhaled slowly as her forehead dropped onto his shoulder. "I hate this."

"Was Jack in there? Maybe he won't even let it get off the ground." Jack Bingle was the Head of the department, and Harry seemed to be grasping at straws.

"He wasn't there," Hermione said, drawing in another breath as she sat back up. "But he won't go against the majority. And anyway, he'll probably sack me once he hears I stormed out of the meeting. I might as well just go pack my things now."

"He isn't going to sack you," Harry said, swinging some hair away from his eyes. "You're the best they've got in that department."

"If by best, you mean most hated, then yeah." Hermione felt her eyes roll again, feeling extremely bitter about the entire situation. "I haven't ever done anything to any of them, you know? And they all treat me like something they found on the bottom of their shoe."

"They're jealous." It was a simple statement and one that Hermione had heard over and over. It was what everyone loved to say whenever she complained about the way she was treated at work. Hell, it was what she'd heard her entire life in various situations. Even when she was six years old and getting shoved into the wall of the coat room at primary. _'They're jealous of you because you're smarter.' _That was her dad's explanation as well. To an extent, she could see it. She _was _smarter than most people, and she knew it. She didn't know why that made her so unlikeable, though. She'd never had a ton of friends, and she was beginning to suspect that there was more to it than just stupid jealousy.

Regardless, she wasn't in the mood to rehash the fact that the whole rest of the group seemed to despise her. She needed to focus on finding a way to remove herself from the current oppression they were planning. Or, even better, to stop it completely. It seemed useless, though, in a world where majority ruled in nearly every situation.

But she was a fighter by nature. She was used to being the underdog, and she didn't think now was the time to give up.

"I want to overthrow them." She made up her mind in a split second, and she looked at Harry very seriously. "Even I lose my job. I can't let them do this." He raised his eyebrows, and she swallowed. "Will you help me?"

"How?"

"I don't know." She lifted one shoulder. "But people listen to you." This made him uncomfortable, but he couldn't deny it. It was the truth, and he knew it. "And we can't let them do this. Think about Teddy."

Now she _knew _she was being unfair and manipulative, but she couldn't make herself feel bad. Harry would do anything for Teddy, and she knew it. It was the easiest card to play, and it worked. He nodded. "Just tell me what you want me to do."

She smiled, suddenly feeling much more energized and a whole lot less sorry for herself. She felt ready to take on the world, even if it meant going against her entire department. "Thanks!" she said quickly, standing up and then leaning over to hug him again. She kissed his cheek quickly and squeezed him. "That's why you're my best friend."

He looked up at her when she straightened back up. She could tell he was uneasy about whatever he was going to say next, but finally he managed to get it out. Or at least partially. "Hermione, if you need… something… I mean, money or…" It was awkward, and she gave him a little smile.

"Thanks, but we're okay. Nothing against you, but I just… It might be weird."

He nodded, understanding without needing to go into it. It truthfully _was _nothing against him. But money made things strained, and everyone knew it. Being indebted to her parents was different from being indebted to her friends. Even friends who were family.

"Then just let me know how you want me to help with the werewolf stuff," he said, brushing right over the topic.

"I will." She smiled at him again. "Thanks for listening."

He shrugged one shoulder, and she patted his head playfully before heading back in the direction of the lifts. She wasn't going to be bullied around any longer, and she didn't care who hated her because of it. She wasn't going to stand around and do nothing while the people on her very work team tried to undo everything she'd been fighting against for years. She hated injustice, and she wasn't going to stand for it.

She just hoped she could at least manage to keep her job until Ron was home for good… Otherwise, the home he'd be coming back to would be a street corner.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading!


	38. Sacrifices and Scars

**BACK TO THE BEGINNING**

**Chapter 38**

**SACRIFICES AND SCARS**

* * *

Three o'clock in the morning.

Normal people were not up at that hour. Normal people were asleep in their beds, waiting patiently for the sun to actually rise. Normal people didn't even know 3 AM existed.

But Harry'd never really been too normal.

The baby in his arms was apparently also well on his way to being as abnormal as possible, as he seemed to prefer the moon to the sun at nearly every occasion. When he was first born, James had been on a fairly predictable schedule- he woke up every two hours, ate, and went straight back to sleep. At nearly three months, though, he'd obviously decided that a schedule was boring and that he should entertain himself by sleeping all day and staying up all night. As he sat rocking the baby, Harry wondered about the possibility of his child actually being a vampire. It would explain so much.

"I'm delusional." He said it out loud, deciding that it was the only possible excuse for his completely mindless wonderings. A lack of sleep was known to make people delusional, possibly even crazy. It was a very plausible sort of excuse.

"What have you got against sleep?" he asked James, moving him so that he was in more of a sitting position. "It's something most people enjoy."

James just stared at him, blinking slowly.

Harry sighed at the lack of response and leaned his head backwards to rest against the chair. He shifted again so that he had James lying against his chest, and he let his eyes slip shut. He forced himself not to fall asleep, though. He had to be at work in three hours, so it wouldn't do to get a short kip in before he had to be up for good. If anything, he'd just piss himself off. He wished that Ginny felt up to helping, but she'd had a bit of a cold for the past few days and was mostly staying in bed herself. Harry, on the other hand, was up most of the night with the baby and working all day. It was exhausting, and he felt like he could just fall over at any second and die of sleep deprivation.

He couldn't help feeling that James didn't like him as much as he liked Ginny. With Ginny, he was constantly cooing and giggling. Harry did his best to entertain him as well, but James seemed dead set on simply being bored wherever his dad was concerned. Harry didn't suppose he could blame him. After all, he didn't find himself to be a very entertaining sort of person. On the whole, he was rather boring. There wasn't much about him that was amusing, so he wasn't all that shocked that James tended to just stare blankly into space instead of respond to him.

The baby was calm, though. That was one good thing about him. He may have hated sleep, but he wasn't that big of a crier or a whiner. For the most part, he was very quiet and very easy-natured. Harry was thankful for that because he'd witnessed enough of the second generation already to know that the Weasley temper was apparently something inherited since birth. Miraculously, though, James didn't show too many signs of possessing it. He lay against Harry's neck and breathed quietly and evenly.

And Harry nearly drifted off to sleep.

He was jerked back to consciousness, though, when an owl began pecking at the living room window. He looked at it in half-confusion at first, wondering who in the world was sending mail this early in the morning. He got up to let it in, though, which actually _did _seem to bother James a bit, as he whimpered quietly at being disturbed. The owl flew in once Harry'd undone the latch and simply dropped its contents off without even sticking around for a treat. Harry barely noticed the quick retreat, though, because he was side-tracked by the Ministry seal on the envelope. He balanced his son with one arm as he used his free hand and his teeth to open the letter.

_To All Auror Department Members,_

_ This letter is to inform you of an overnight incident at the Auror training facility. At approximately 11PM, an accidental explosion occurred in one of the camp's bunks. Several Auror trainees were injured in the explosion and are currently being treated for various injuries. There were no fatalities, and while a number of people were injured, the explosion was in a relatively closed facility. All injured persons are expected to reach full recovery._

_ If you have any questions, please contact the Ministry for further information._

_Sincerely,_

_Louise Lopkins_

_Media Liasion_

_Ministry of Magic_

Harry stared at the letter, his mind, of course, first going to Ron. From the wording of the letter, the explosion did not seem to be hugely destructive, but it was still unnerving to wonder if Ron was one of the injured. In his time as an Auror, Harry had seen a few people get hurt here and there, but for the most part, it had been a peaceful few years. But he suddenly found himself afraid and nervous at the possibility that Ron might be hurt.

He put James down on the floor to lie on his belly and then hurried over the fire to contact the only person he could think of who might have answers- his head. Lewis was a good man who had been with the Auror department for nearly twenty years. Harry had never contacted him at home before, but he knew that no one would be at the Ministry this early in the morning. He hesitated a second before calling because it was so early, but he needed to know that Ron was okay. He was almost surprised, though, when Lewis actually answered.

"Potter," he said, nodding his head a bit through the flames.

"Good morning, sir," Harry said, feeling oddly formal and more than a bit nervous. "I was just wondering if you had any specifics on the explosion that took place at the training camp."

"It occurred around eleven last night. No fatalities." The answers were exactly the same as in the letter. Harry was frustrated.

"Yes, sir," he said, nodding. "I was asking more about specifics on the injured."

"There were a few major injuries, but for the most part, the injuries were quite minor."

Harry wanted to scream in frustration, but he kept his demeanor cool. "Do you have names? It's just that… my brother-in-law is training. Ron Weasley."

It felt very strange to refer to Ron as his brother-in-law, and Harry realized it was probably the first time he'd done so. Somehow he thought it sounded better than "best friend." Being family, he was more likely to get the answers he needed. Or at least he imagined.

Lewis was reading some sort of roster and then looked up and nodded. "Yes. He was in the affected bunk." Harry's stomach seemed to drop. "It appears he's being treated for a variety of burns and minor lesions."

"Is he alright?"

"Yes, I expect he'll be just fine. He's being treated at the camp's infirmary."

Harry nodded, swallowing a breath he wasn't aware he was holding. "Thank you, sir." Lewis nodded and then disappeared from the fire.

Harry didn't move for a few moments. Ron was fine. It still unnerved him, though, as it had been a long time since he'd had to worry about the safety of his friends and family. Of course, an accidental explosion was a far cry from a Death Eater attack, but it brought up unpleasant memories. Pushing them aside, though, he scooped James back up and took him upstairs.

Ginny was fast asleep. It was obvious that she was suffering from a cold because her breathing was short and uneven in her sleep. Her hair was tangled and matted across her cheek as she lay over the entire bed, somehow taking up both her own spot and the spot that was supposed to be Harry's. He carefully lay James down against the pillows and then gently shook Ginny by the shoulder. He didn't want to startle her or scare her. She woke up slowly, responding to the gentle shaking at a timid pace. Finally, though, her eyes fluttered open, and she looked up at him dazedly.

"What time is it?" she muttered.

"About 3:30."

"In the afternoon?"

"In the morning."

Ginny's eyes opened more at that, and she stared at him with a hard sort of look. "Why the hell am I awake then?"

"There's been an accident."

That immediately snapped her out of her sarcasm mode, and she sat up quickly. "What happened?"

"There was an explosion at the training camp-"

"Oh, my god!" Ginny's hand flew to her mouth, and he saw an immediate panic in her eyes that he spoke quickly to quell.

"Ron's fine," he assured her. "He was hurt, but it's not serious."

"Are you sure?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I just spoke with Lewis. Everything's going to be fine," he promised her again. "I'm going to head over to the camp, though, just to take a look."

"I want to go with you." She said this in a voice that left little room for argument. Harry, though, was forced to argue.

"You can't. They won't let you in."

"He's my _brother."_

"They won't allow anyone in without clearance," he tried to explain. "They wouldn't even let you in to see _me." _

"The hell they wouldn't!" It was a nice sentiment, of course, but the truth was that they _wouldn't _allow her in to see him. The only people allowed into the camp were trainees and current members of the Auror department. Husbands, wives, mums, dads, kids… No one was allowed in under any circumstance. It was just procedure.

Harry didn't go into this, though, he just shook his head. "He's fine. I'm just going to go visit him for a bit."

"Does Hermione know?"

He hadn't even thought of that. It surprised him that his thoughts hadn't first gone to her, but up until that second, he was just concerned with seeing for himself that Ron was alright. Hermione wouldn't have even heard the news yet, as she certainly wouldn't be receiving middle of the night updates from the Auror department. She certainly wasn't awake yet, either, so if the explosion was already front page of the _Prophet, _she wouldn't have seen it, either.

"I'll stop by on my way out."

Ginny still seemed slightly put out that she wasn't allowed to visit her brother, but she seemed acquiesced enough to just nod and sigh a little bit.

"Do you feel okay to take care of James, or do you want me to drop him off somewhere?" Ginny didn't look too well at all, and when he touched her face, he could see that she was still running a slight fever. She'd been sick for several days now, and he hoped she'd be better soon.

"I've got him," she said, her eyes turning toward the pillow where James was propped on his belly. He had his head turned and was watching his mother closely as she gently rubbed a circle on his back.

"Okay, well, let me know if you need me to take him somewhere, okay? Don't make yourself even sicker."

Ginny nodded and moved to lay back down. She kept one hand on James and gently smoothed down some of his hair. Harry watched them for a second, feeling guilty about leaving when she was sick. It would be okay, though, he told himself. He would come back to check on them soon.

Hermione's building was quiet and dark when he Apparated to the side street behind it. The hallway was absolutely empty as he headed to the stairs and up to the third floor where the flat was. He wasn't even sure he would be able to get her to the door, as she was surely still asleep, but he also didn't want to just Apparate straight into the flat in the middle of the night, either.

He knocked gently at first, hoping that perhaps she was such a light sleeper that she would wake up and answer without him having to knock loudly enough to wake all her neighbors. It didn't work, of course, and he knocked harder. It seemed to take forever for her to actually wake up, but finally he heard the latch move and saw her peek out. When she saw it was him, she immediately opened the door and let him in.

"What's wrong?" Her voice was tired and sleepy, and it was obvious from her disheveled appearance that she'd literally just woken up and stumbled to the door. The entire flat was dark, and he watched as she fumbled around for a light switch.

He didn't want to scare her, but he didn't want to beat around the bush, either. "There was an explosion at the training camp, and some people got hurt."

Hermione stared at him, her eyes clearly worried. She swallowed, and her voice was shaky. "Is Ron okay?"

Harry nodded immediately. "Yeah, he's fine. I don't think anyone was hurt too badly. He's just got some scrapes and bruises."

She seemed to relax a little bit at that. "You're sure?"

He nodded again. "Yeah, I spoke to Lewis already, and he said everything's fine. I just didn't want you to wake up and see it in the paper and worry."

"Can I see him?"

"They won't let you."

She nodded slowly, taking to the answer a lot more calmly than Ginny had. She chewed on her lower lip for a few seconds and then looked back up. "Will you go check on him?"

"I'm headed over there now. What time are you going to work?"

"Probably about eight."

Harry nodded. "Okay. Well, if I'm back in time, I'll come back by here and let you know how he is. If I'm not, I'll just see you at work then."

"Tell him to write me when he can, so I can see he's okay."

"I'm sure he will anyway, but okay."

Hermione drew in another slightly ragged sort of breath, and he could tell she was still nervous.

"He's fine," Harry assured her. "And he gets to come home in a couple of weeks anyway, right?"

"On the twelfth."

"I'm sure he'll be completely healed up by then. It's fine."

Hermione nodded and blinked away what might have been a few tears. "I just worry," she said quietly.

He didn't know what to say. He hated dealing with Hermione when she was crying. She cried a lot. Or more so than an average person, he thought. He used to chalk it up to her being a girl and dealing with all those girly hormones, but none of the other girls he knew cried that much. Not that he knew a ton, of course, but Ginny didn't cry that much. Not when she wasn't pregnant anyway. But Hermione was the opposite of that. Hermione was a very emotional person and always had been. It was sort of surprising because she was so level-headed and rational, but her emotions overtook her rather easily, and it wasn't unusual at all to see her suddenly tearing up.

He patted her shoulder awkwardly. "I'll let you know soon, okay?"

Hermione nodded, and he left pretty quickly after that. If she was going to start full out crying, he didn't want to be around. He didn't know how Ron dealt with it all the time, but seeing as how he was probably responsible for more than 90 percent of tears, perhaps he deserved it. You'd think, though, that after spending all that time dealing with a crying woman, you'd learn to be more attentive to her emotions. But no one had ever accused Ron of being too sensitive…

The security clearance at the Auror Academy was massive, and it took nearly an entire hour to get through the different levels before he was finally able to navigate the grounds on his own. The infirmary looked exactly the same as it had years before when Harry himself was training. He'd only ended up in it once, though, and it wasn't because of an injury. He'd come down with a horrible case of dragon pox and had been confined to the hospital for nearly two weeks.

While it was still dark outside, the infirmary was brightly lit and busy. Apparently the explosion was enough to keep the on-call Healers extremely occupied for the time being. A few people nodded at him and said hello as he passed, but for the most part, he barely garnered any attention at all, surprising, of course, as he nearly always garnered attention everywhere he went. He finally stopped one of the assistants and asked if she knew where he could find Ron. She was a young girl and not directly employed by the Aurors, so he wasn't surprised to find that she seemed rather enamored by him. It was ridiculous, of course, but there were certain situations where he was glad to be well-known. It made naturally charming people rather easy when it came to it. The assistant, Caroline, pointed him down a corridor and informed him that the majority of the explosion victims were being treated in the main examination room. He thanked her and set off quickly.

He wasn't surprised to find that the exam room was even busier than the rest of the building. Most of the patients were resting in their beds and didn't appear to be too bad off, but there were a few who were squirming and seemed to be in serious pain.

Ron was not one of them.

Harry spotted him from the doorway and made his way across the room to where Ron was sleeping peacefully in a hospital bed. He had a bandage across his shoulder and a couple of burn marks on his neck, but, for the most part, he looked perfectly healthy. Harry debated even waking him up, as he appeared just fine. Still, he knew Hermione (and maybe Ginny, too) would murder him if he didn't come back with something to tell, so he gently shook Ron until his eyes flew open.

"Shit," he muttered, clearly startled by the sudden awakening. "What're you doing here?"

"Checking to make sure you're still alive and coherent and all that so that Hermione doesn't murder me."

"I'm alive." Ron sighed loudly and seemed to relax.

Harry snickered a little bit. "Yeah, I can see that. What the hell happened anyway?"

Ron shrugged one shoulder. "I don't know. Somebody blew something up, and then I woke up here with a piece of window pane sticking out of my shoulder."

That explained the bandage. Harry pulled a face and tried to imagine the pain. "Did it hurt?"

"Hell yeah, it hurt," Ron rolled his eyes. "It's a piece of glass. In my shoulder. Hurt like fuck, yeah."

"Does it still hurt?"

Ron smiled a little at that and shook his head. "Nope. Now it feels amazing."

He was on heavy drugs, that much was obvious. Harry tried to hide his amusement. "Well, that's good then."

"You woke me up out of an amazing dream, mate."

"This doesn't really seem like the ideal place to be having amazing dreams…" Harry said, bemused. "There're a lot of people around."

Ron smirked and then rolled his eyes. "Yeah… That's how it always is."

"Well, I'll let you get back to it then," Harry said, still rather amused. "Just remember that you've got an audience when you slip back into dreamland."

"Where's Hermione?" Ron ignored him altogether.

"You know they wouldn't let her in here."

"I thought maybe she'd sneak in. Use some Polyjuice shit or something."

"I think she gave that up awhile back…"

Ron sighed and settled back against his pillows. Harry expected him to say something sarcastic, but all he delivered was a very dull, "Damn."

Harry looked over the bandage and burn marks on Ron's neck and shoulder before his eyes stopped at the dull, white marks that still covered his forearms. "I can't believe those didn't fade," he mumbled.

Ron looked at him oddly for a second before following his eyes. "Yeah, you're not the only one with cool scars, you know?"

The scars on his forearms were from years ago. Back when they were just Fifth Years, the very first time they ever infiltrated the Ministry of Magic. They'd faded over time, but they were still a dull white that stood out against Ron's pale skin. They crisscrossed over his arms nearly down to his elbows. Looking at the scars stalled Harry for a second, and he lost his train of thought for a moment.

"Hermione's is gone, isn't it?" He asked the question quietly as he looked up. He wasn't sure why it was so easy to lose himself like that. Most the time he got by just fine day to day, but there were moments when something would trigger memories that would stop him in his tracks.

He was wrong, though, and Ron shook his head. "No, it's still there. Probably won't ever go away. Kind of hard to get rid of a scar if you don't even know what caused it, you know?"

The scars on Ron's arms and the scar on Harry's forehead were both identifiable. They knew exactly what had caused them both. Hermione had a scar that ran from halfway across her back around to nearly the middle of her stomach. It happened at Malfoy Manor, but nobody knew what exactly caused it, as the Cruciatus alone wouldn't leave a physical mark. Harry hadn't really thought about it in years, and he felt inexplicably guilty.

"It's not as bad as it used to be," Ron said, shrugging. "Remember how it used to look like a bad burn? Now it's just sort of pink." He seemed to pick up on the guilty feeling and was doing something to assuage it. He wasn't the most perceptive person in the world, but he could pick up on _some _things.

"She said to tell you to write her." Harry changed the subject.

Ron just nodded. "Yeah, I will. Tell her I think she needs to brew up some Polyjuice, though, and sneak in here."

Harry laughed a little bit. "You'll be home before all the ingredients are added."

Ron shrugged at that, agreeing. Then he turned rather serious and said, "Tell her not to worry, okay? I'm fine."

"I'll tell her. I have to go, though, if I plan on letting her know anything before noon."

Ron nodded, and they said their goodbyes. Harry left then and headed back to London. He tried to ignore the tugging feeling in his stomach, telling himself that guilt was a pointless emotion. He couldn't go back and change any of the past, but that didn't stop him feeling awful about it. The scars they had weren't ever going to fade apparently. At least not the physical ones. Sometimes he worried that the mental ones would last even longer. It was easy enough to pretend like everything was fine, but then there were moments when he was visiting his best friend in the hospital when a million memories came flooding back. Ron and Hermione had given up everything in the world for him, and he knew he was never going to be able to do anything to pay them back. He would try the rest of his life, and he'd still be indebted to them. It wasn't fair that they were still suffering with the marks of the past when they shouldn't have even been in the position to get them in the first place. That was all his fault.

And sometimes, he wondered if he'd ever get around to forgiving himself.

* * *

A/N: Okay, I know I've been gone for like a month and a half, but I'm fine! There's just been tons of stuff keeping me away, and I am really sorry for not updating sooner! I'm back now, though, so thanks to everyone who was worried! And again, I'm really, really sorry!! I hope you guys are still interested in this….


	39. Healing Homecomings

**BACK TO THE BEGINNING**

**Chapter 39**

**HEALING HOMECOMINGS**

* * *

Hermione accosted him the second he arrived home.

He expected it, of course. She'd been writing obsessively for two weeks straight, asking constantly if he was feeling alright and if he was hurting at all. The explosion had happened fifteen days before, and he was absolutely fine. Hell, he'd been fine the next day. Hermione, though, seemed to either not believe him or was just dead set on seeing for herself that he was telling the truth. He didn't know what she expected, but he wasn't surprised when she immediately leapt up and raced over to him when he Apparated into the flat.

"You're late!" she admonished, barely glancing at him before she was tugging the neck of his shirt down to examine his shoulder.

"Fourteen minutes," he said, nearly choking as the neck of his shirt pulled tight against his throat.

Hermione ignored him as she switched shoulders, jerking the shirt in the other direction. When she saw nothing, she reached for the hem of his shirt and lifted it to examine his stomach.

"You don't have to rip my clothes off. You could just ask."

She stopped what she was doing and slapped his arm. "Shut up. I was worried."

He laughed and straightened out his shirt. "I told you I was fine."

"Yeah, well, I needed to see." She stepped back and crossed her arms defiantly.

"Well, feel free to see everything. It's cool with me."

She narrowed her eyes.

"Oh, come on," he laughed. "I'm _fine. _And thanks for the warm welcome, by the way."

She softened at that. It was easy to make her feel guilty, even if he didn't mean it. It was manipulative, yes, but it often worked to his advantage. He didn't have _so _much of a conscience that it stopped him.

"I'm glad you're home," she said, looking at him seriously.

"So… Can I get a hug or something?" He opened his arms expectantly, and she finally uncrossed her own and stepped into his. He wrapped her up tightly, and she relaxed against him.

"You're sure you're okay?"

He rolled his eyes, thankful that she couldn't see him in their current position. "I'm _fine." _He'd told her so a hundred times already. Now that she'd seen for herself, maybe she'd actually start believing him. The cut from the window glass had been completely healed and wasn't even visible anymore. The burn marks on his neck had practically faded completely, too, so it wasn't like he had a ton of injuries for her to fuss over.

"I was scared," she said quietly, and he hugged her a little bit closer, rubbing her back gently as she rested her head against his chest.

"It was just a little explosion. Trust me, we saw worse in first year Potions class."

She laughed a little at that, and he was glad to hear it. He hated that she was so worried over him. He wanted her to know that he was okay so that she would relax a little bit and stop being so nervous. He knew, though, that it was easier said than done.

"Well, now that you see I'm alive and perfectly well, is a kiss too much to hope for?" He nudged her a bit, and she leaned her head back to look up at him before rising up on her toes and fulfilling his request.

The one good thing about this ridiculous training schedule was break in between sections. It was only a week, which hardly made up for being gone two full months, but it was usually the most amazing week. Being away for so long made everything feel brand new. Brand new but completely experienced anyway. It was the only thing, really, that kept him going day to know- just knowing that eventually he'd get to go home and have _this._

She kissed him slowly and meticulously and proper. It was a perfect sort of kiss and just exactly what he'd been craving since the last time he'd stood in this hallway months before. He drew upon the memory of those kisses a lot, especially being away for so long. He had to be careful, though, because thinking about them _too _much made him a bit desperate, and he wasn't really in the position to _be _desperate there at the training camp. So he had to draw on a happy medium. He often tried to push the thoughts aside and just focus on the end game- that one week they'd have all to themselves after the session. Now that he was much further into the training, he could even allow himself to focus on the _end _end game. Less than four months, and he'd be home for good.

He could do it.

When the kiss ended, he looked down to see her staring up at him. "Hi," she said quietly, smiling almost shyly.

He mirrored the grin and bent his head to bump their foreheads against each other. "Hey."

He brushed his lips against hers again, but the kiss only lasted a few seconds before she turned her head and rested it against his chest. Her arms found their way around his neck, and he was confused for a bit. He thought maybe she just wanted a hug, but then she whispered in a tiny voice, "Don't ever die."

She said it so quietly that he could almost swear he heard her wrong. But, of course, he didn't. He knew he'd heard correctly, he just didn't know _why _she'd said it. Pulling back just slightly, he looked down at the top of her head. "What're you on about?"

"Just don't die, okay?" She said it a bit more loudly this time, but she still didn't lift her head and look at him. "Don't get hurt, either, but especially don't die."

"Where is that even coming from?" He was confused and would have been slightly amused if he had any idea at all what she was talking about.

She didn't answer straight away, but then he heard her sigh a little bit. "You got hurt… It just made me worry…"

"Hermione, I _barely _got hurt. It was just a little explosion-"

"But what if it wasn't?" She interrupted him and finally pulled back to look at him. "What if it was a _big e_xplosion? Or what if it was an attack? Or what if there was an Azkaban breakout, and all the locked up Death Eaters escaped and came seeking revenge?" Her voice was getting higher and higher the quicker she spoke. He had no idea what brought this on.

"Hey," he said seriously, gripping both her shoulders and forcing her to stay looking at him. "I'm _fine, _okay? I promise. None of that stuff… It's not going to happen."

"You don't _know _that." He could see that her eyes were starting to water with unshed tears. "I don't want you doing things where you could get hurt because we're supposed to be safe now!"

He was surprised by this. She didn't ever go down this road, and he was shocked to hear her start down it now. Perhaps she read the look on his face because she seemed to realize how irrational she sounded. She stopped for a few seconds and looked away. When she spoke again, her voice was much calmer and _much _quieter.

"Knowing we're safe is the only thing that keeps the nightmares away."

If he didn't know her so well, he'd be confused by what she meant. As it were, though, he knew everything about her, and he knew exactly what nightmares she was referring to. She'd had nightmares for months after the end of the war. She wasn't alone, either. They'd all had their fair share of nightmares. But that was years ago. They faded off for the most part, and when they occurred now, no one really talked about them.

"Are you having nightmares?" He studied her face carefully.

"No, not really," she said, glancing away for a second and then back again. "Not a lot. I just… I just don't want to."

"Do you want me to come home?" It sounded strange since he was literally _standing _in their home, but he meant for good, and she knew it. He was being serious, too. If she was so upset that the nightmares were starting up again, he wasn't just going to leave her alone.

"No, you're almost done," she said. "I just want you to promise that you'll be safe."

"I told you, I'm fi-"

"I _know _you're fine," she interrupted. "But you have to stay that way. I can't… I just can't ever lose you, okay?"

He didn't know where it was coming from, and truthfully, it scared him just a little bit. She didn't usually get like this. In fact, it had been a really long time since he'd seen her show any sort of fear about this sort of thing. Their past was full of things to be scared about, but they'd put most of it behind them. There were moments when they still looked over their shoulders, and he wouldn't even try to lie and say they were all healed up mentally, but for the most part, they were able to live fairly normal lives.

"What happened?" He asked her point blank, wanting to know exactly what had occurred to bring this reaction on. He had a hard time believing that it was all to do with a tiny little accident occurring at the training camp. But maybe it was. He really couldn't tell because it'd been so long since they'd had to deal with anything like this.

"Nothing happened." She was looking at the floor.

"You promise?"

"Yes." And she finally looked back up at him. "I'm just so worried that something bad's going to happen, and I just need you to tell me that it's not."

"What do you think is going to happen?"

"Anything could happen!" Her voice was rising again, which meant she was well on her way back to hysteria. "This whole Auror thing… It's just dangerous!"

"Do you want me to quit?"

"No." Her voice softened then, and she moved her hands to the back of his head and twisted her fingers through his hair. "No, I don't want you to quit. I just want you to promise me that you're not going to get hurt or run off and… get yourself killed or something."

"I'm not going to get _killed, _Hermione," he said flatly. "If I was going to get killed, it would have happened like ten years ago. Trust me."

"Swear."

"I swear."

"Because I need you," she said, and her voice sounded a little bit desperate. It broke a little as she finished with, "I don't think I can even _breathe _without you anymore…"

He didn't know what to say to that. He didn't know where it was coming from, and he certainly didn't know how to respond. They could get sappy to a certain extent, but it wasn't really who they were. When it got to that level, though- that level of complete seriousness- it scared him a little bit. It was an overwhelming sort of thing to hear, but even more than that, it scared him how closely he felt the same.

"Look," he moved his hands from her shoulders to cup her face and lift her chin towards him. "I'm going to be _fine. _I promise. I'm not ever gonna just leave you by yourself."

In a way, it was an empty promise. They both knew that he couldn't swear to always be alright. Growing up, they'd learned pretty damn quickly that things could change in an instance and people could be gone without warning. They'd seen more death by the time they were eighteen than most people saw in a lifetime. But that was before, and things were different now. They weren't constantly in danger. They weren't always at risk of being murdered. Sure, accidents could happen, but the chances were slim.

It was an okay lie to tell, though, because she needed to hear it. Logically, she knew that he couldn't make that promise, but she wanted to hear him say it. He'd do anything in the world for her, and if all it took to help her sleep at night were a few words, he'd tell her anything she wanted to hear. And he would never intentionally leave her. That was the last thing in the world he'd _ever_ do. He needed her far too badly to ever just walk away by choice. Being apart from her just temporarily was difficult enough in itself. Agonizing, in fact. He would never intentionally inflict that on himself permanently. And he certainly wouldn't do it to her if he knew it would hurt her even a fraction of the amount it would hurt him.

"I just wish I could see you every day, just to make sure you're always okay." Her voice dropped off as she spoke quietly. She didn't look away, though, not even when he dropped his hands from her face and slid them down her back.

"It's only a few more months," he told her, trying to do anything he could to calm her nerves. "And then I'll be back for good… And we'll be married…"

He pulled her closer as he said the last part and dropped his face into the top of her hair. Saying it out loud was pretty much the best thing ever, and he was secretly glad for any excuse. He just hugged her for several moments, enjoying the way she fit so perfectly into the circle of his arms and doing his best to commit it to memory so that he could draw upon it in a week or so when he was missing her terribly.

He was literally stunned, though, to hear the next words out of her mouth.

"I want to have a baby."

He didn't know what to say, or indeed how to react at all, to a statement like that. He literally froze as he tried to run the words over and over again in his head and make sense out of them. Hermione seemed to realize that he was completely frozen because she pulled out of his embrace just a little bit to look up at him.

"Not right this second," she said, her eyes searching his. He tried to make his exhale of relief as invisible as possible. "But just… I don't want to wait a long time, either."

"How long is a long time?" He was nearly afraid to ask.

"Just within the next couple of years, you know. I just… Ginny just seems so happy, and James is so perfect…"

"Baby fever." He shook his head seriously, and Hermione rolled her eyes, apparently over her earlier bout of sappiness and insecurities.

"It's not just _baby fever," _she said, exasperated. "Okay, some of it is," she conceded. "But… I just want… _our _baby. And I just keep thinking about it."

"How about a dog?" He raised his eyebrows, and Hermione looked at him so incredulously that he laughed almost immediately. "Kidding!" He wasn't. "Let's just take it one step at a time, okay?"

Truthfully, the idea of a baby terrified him. There were moments when he thought about it and thought he'd never want anything more than to see Hermione with a baby- with _his _baby. But really, no matter how perfect it sounded in theory, he knew he'd be scared shitless when the time actually came. He didn't know anything about babies, and he really didn't feel ready enough to _have _any right now, either. But maybe in a couple of years…

"I just can't get over how perfect James is," she said, and she smiled just talking about it. "He's like… the best thing ever. And I just, I can't wait for that. You know?"

"Look, I don't know how perfect that kid could be," he said seriously. "He's half Ginny, half Harry… That means he's all half bratty and half broody, and he's probably got the worst temper in the world."

"But he doesn't!" Hermione said quickly. "He really doesn't at all. He's so sweet, and he just barely even cries or fusses or anything. We can get him if you want." Her eyes seemed to light up at the suggestion. "Maybe even overnight. You'll see, he's just amazing!"

Ron stared at her, wondering if her case of baby fever was worse than he'd imagined. He couldn't quite believe she was suggesting _babysitting _when they hadn't seen each other in two months. He told her so, too.

"Hermione, if I'm going to be up all night… I'd rather be doing something a bit more fun than changing nappies. If you know what I mean."

She did know. And the tiny blush that colored her cheeks gave her away. "Well, maybe one day this week," she said quietly.

He'd already got to her, though. He couldn't quite believe it had taken even _this _long. She seemed extremely distracted, so it was lucky he pretty much had a one-track mind or they might never get around to it.

"Yeah, maybe," he conceded, barely even paying attention to his own words as he let his hands slide even lower down her back until they were planted firmly where he wanted them. She didn't protest, either, as he pulled her even closer and dipped his head to kiss her again. She responded straight away, opening her lips to him and letting him finally snog her good and proper. Her hands were still at the back of his head, and they wrapped more firmly into his hair as she pulled his head even tighter with her own.

He'd been missing her since the second he left, and now that he had her, he didn't want to waste another second. The last time he'd been home was a disaster, and he intended to make sure that this visit was much better. He was going to make damn sure that every single worry and distraction was far, far from her mind. He had every intention of keeping her focused on things that were much more pleasurable, and if it kept him distracted in the meantime… Well, all the better, right?

Right.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading!!


	40. Fantasy Futures

**BACK TO THE BEGINNING**

**Chapter 40**

**FANTASY FUTURES**

* * *

She wasn't sure exactly when she started thinking of The Burrow as home.

Throughout her teenage years, she certainly spent more time there than she did at her own house with her parents. It became normal for her to spend the majority of the summer holidays and any other school breaks there, and on the rare occasions that she was at her parents' home, she felt lonely and out of place. She loved her parents, of course, but she was different from them. And it was difficult to remove herself from the world she spent most of her time in and return to their world for a few months during the summer. It felt strange and was something she never quite adjusted to.

The Burrow, though, was a place she always felt comfortable. The Weasleys treated her just like one of their own, and she felt as though she fit in and truly had a spot there. She really felt as though she grew up in that house, even though she never stepped foot into it until she was a teenager. But it was so easy to call it home. And so easy to call the Weasleys are family. She truly felt that even if things had never developed between Ron and her that she would still be a part of that family. She would still be an aunt to all the kids even if she had no literal relation. As it were, though, she didn't need to even ponder those things because she _was _their aunt. Almost officially now. In just a few months, she'd even have their name.

It was sort of surreal.

They were having Easter a week early because Ron was home, and Mrs. Weasley felt it would be best to celebrate while the entire family was there. She invited the whole lot of them over for a huge Sunday meal and insisted that everyone spend the day at the house. Ron wasn't thrilled with the idea initially, but it didn't take too much time before the temptation of his mum's cooking won out. Hermione, though, was excited from the beginning. With Ron away and with the amount of time she was spending working, it had been awhile since she'd been around the whole family, and she was looking forward to spending the day with them.

Mrs. Weasley spent the entire morning in the kitchen and promptly kicked out anyone who attempted to assist her. Most everyone else engaged themselves with one of two activities- the Easter egg dying and hunting that the kids were fully immersed in… Or the Sunday Quidditch match that was blasting over the wireless in the sitting room. Hermione actually spent most of the morning with the kids, as that was far more entertaining the alternative. Eventually, though, she tired of playing referee as the kids hid and hunted the eggs for the tenth time, and she retired herself from the garden and back into the house.

She was not surprised by the makeup in the sitting room. Ron was there. And Ginny. Along with Bill, George, and Angelina. Baby Fred was napping on a blanket, and James was being bounced on Ginny's knee. Noticeably absent, though, was Harry who had not managed to show up yet. He was at work, but Ginny said he usually got off before noon on Sundays. No one had heard from him, though, but no one seemed too concerned, either.

"Gave up on the eggs?" Ginny raised her eyebrows as Hermione joined them, dropping onto the sofa on the opposite side of Ron.

"They're getting mean now," she answered. Then she looked pointedly at Bill. _"Victoire _is getting mean. She doesn't like losing, does she?"

"How do you _lose _an egg hunt?" he asked back, and Hermione shook her head.

"Trust me, it's very possible. And she doesn't enjoy it one bit."

"Is Fleur out there?" She nodded. "Then I'm sure she'll take care of it."

He was right, of course. Hermione could say a lot of things about Fleur- and she _had _on more than one occasion- but she wouldn't say anything about her parenting abilities. Fleur was actually a very good mother- she was responsible and just strict enough. Victoire may have been an overly hyper and high-tempered child, but Fleur never let her get away with acting out. At least when she was around to witness it.

"What the hell are they doing?!" Ron's outburst came out of nowhere, and it took Hermione a second to realize he was lost in the Quidditch commentary.

Ginny, apparently, was right there with them. "What they do best, I reckon. Being shit awful."

"Oh, piss off, Ginny."

Their mini-spat was interrupted by the appearance of their mum who entered levitating a tray of tiny dessert plates. Apparently, since it was a "holiday," they were allowed a bit of pie _before _lunch.

"What's this commotion?" she asked, narrowing her eyes toward the sofa where Ginny and Ron were both seated. "You need to be nice to each other."

They flashed her nearly identical smiles of innocence. It was truly terrifying. After Mrs. Weasley made sure everyone had their sweets and had disappeared again, though, they dropped straight back into their bickering.

"James is going to be the Cannons biggest fan," Ron said seriously, and Ginny rolled her eyes.

"No, he's actually got a brain, so I doubt that'll happen."

"Oh, are you planning to brainwash him into being a Harpies fan?" Ginny looked at him challengingly, and he went straight on. "The only fans they've got are a load of perverts who just like to look at the players' tits."

Ginny glared at him then. "Shut up, or I swear I will stab you with this fork." She waved her pie fork threateningly.

He snorted, but Hermione just stared at them both. "Did you seriously just threaten to stab him with a _fork?"_

Ginny shrugged.

Hermione didn't understand them. She never had, and she was beginning to realize she never _would. _They were out of control. It was ridiculous.

She turned expectantly to Bill, thinking that he might have some semblance over control of his youngest siblings. He met her eye and mirrored Ginny's careless shrug. She glared and turned instead toward George, but her eyes were rolling of their own accord before they even fell on him. As if he would be even the _slightest _help.

She was completely on her own.

"You two need to… go back to primary or something." It was the best she could come up with on the spur of the moment, and it infuriated her when they both snickered. "Oh, give me that baby," she snapped, jumping up and snatching James from Ginny.

As she left the room, she heard Ginny say, "Good job, Ron, you got my kid taken away!"

Hermione kissed the top of James's head as she carried him away from the madness of the sitting room and back through the house. "You're going to need all the help you can get, kid."

In response, he grabbed a fistful of her hair and stuffed it into his mouth.

Hermione laughed as she promptly removed it, and then she laughed more when James mimicked her giggling. He was a happy baby- mostly anything could make him laugh. He burped, he laughed. He dirtied a diaper, he laughed. He sneezed, he laughed. It was a constant cycle. Hermione thought it was the most adorable thing in the world. Of course, she thought just about _everything _about James was pretty much the most adorable thing in the world.

Honestly, she didn't know what was different about this one. She enjoyed all the kids, of course, but there was something different about James that made her positively _mad _over him. Perhaps it was simply the fact that he was her godson. Or maybe it was just that she loved Harry and Ginny so much. She didn't know, but she was absolutely head over heels for this baby.

"You're whole family's nuts," she told him, feigning seriousness. He studied her with big brown eyes for a few moments- there wasn't even the slightest hint of green to them- and then he hiccupped and laughed. She laughed, too, unable to help herself. "You already know that, don't you? Well, it's a good thing _I'll _always be here to protect you."

She wandered around with him for a few minutes, bouncing him gently before she finally settled in on a spot. She ducked into the stairwell and carried him up a few stairs before sitting down and balancing him on her lap. She held him up so that he could "stand" on her lap and bounce happily against her knees. Bouncing was really pushing it, of course, as he could barely manage enough pressure to even make movement, but he was certainly trying.

Baby fever.

She'd lied when she said it wasn't that bad. It _was. _She didn't know what had come over her lately, but she was literally _aching _to have a baby. It was surprising, of course, because she'd never been like that before. She'd always _wanted _children- eventually- but she'd never been in a huge hurry. She'd always seen herself as a person more concerned with establishing herself in a career than in being tied down and having babies. She had plans for herself, and she'd so far managed to stay right on track with how her life was supposed to go. She felt that she could be a bit more successful in her professional life, but at least she was doing something worthwhile. Even if she did sort of despise it most the time. But children and that sort of thing needed to wait until she was more fully established, and she knew that. But lately, well, lately everything seemed to be going full force.

As urgently as she'd suddenly felt the desire to be married, she now wanted to be a mum. Badly. She loved the babies in her family, but she wanted one of her own. In a way, she actually felt out of place being the _only _girl not married and with no children. She was engaged, though, so at least there was that, but it was extremely difficult to relate to the ever frequent stories of childrearing when she had absolutely nothing to provide to the discussion. And by her family, of course, she meant _Ron's _family, as her own didn't actually have anyone to compare herself to. In a way, she thought it must be even stranger for Ron, being the only one out of all of his siblings to _not _have those things. Well, except for Charlie, of course, but he didn't really count. For one, he was never around. For two, well… Charlie was never going to get married and have kids- at least not legitimate ones- because that's just who he was. He wasn't made to be tied down to commitments like that, and he never would be. The rest of them, though, well, they were all already married with children. But not Ron. Nope.

And, by proxy, not her, either.

"You want a little baby cousin, Jamie?" she whispered, dipping her head forward to bump her nose against his. He giggled. Of course. "You do, don't you?" She nodded her head, answering for him. "And you'll take care of her, won't you? And always look out for her and protect her and be nice to her all the time, won't you?" He yanked on her hair again, and this time Hermione let him. "And she'll love you. And you can always watch out for her and help her and love her right back."

In her head, it was perfect. She'd have a little girl who James would always watch out for, and they'd be best friends and always love each other dearly the way family should. And they would grow up together and stay close all the way through school. And James could beat people up for her (not that Hermione was so much into condoning violence, but she would make exceptions where her hypothetical daughter was concerned). They would be just like brother and sister, but they would be much nicer to each other than Ron and Ginny were. It was the perfect plan.

She picked James up from his semi-standing position and hugged him to her, rubbing a circle on his back as she got in all the cuddles she could. She really could stay just like that all day, snuggling with the baby. It was amazing, and it even scared her a little bit how much she adored it.

"You're going to spoil that kid to death, aren't you?"

She looked up to see that Ron had found her and was now joining her on the stairs. He sat down beside her and leaned back against the higher stairs.

"Quidditch over?" she asked, ignoring his statement about her spoiling the baby. She wouldn't admit to that.

"No, but the Cannons were losing by three-hundred and twenty, so Bill switched it to the Arrows/Magpies. I didn't even have the energy to argue with him."

"Oh, have you finished arguing with Ginny then?"

He shook his head. "I'll never finish with that."

She rolled her eyes slightly, knowing it was true. Ron and Ginny argued now as much as they had when they were twelve years old. She wondered if they'd ever truly grow out of it. She also wondered how much of it was serious. They could feign annoyance with each other all they wanted, but they did truly care about each other. They had a very deep bond, and that much was obvious. Underneath all their bickering, they were closer to each other than either of them were to any of their other siblings. Hermione suspected most of that bond was deep-rooted over a mutual case of "little kid" syndrome they'd picked up at very early ages. In a way, it was rather sweet.

"Speaking of," Ron said, reaching over and taking James from her. He, too, stood the baby atop his knees and stared at him. "He looks just like her, doesn't he?"

It was the truth. James didn't seem to have much Harry in him at all. He had Ginny's eyes, Ginny's hair… His mouth may have looked a bit like Harry's, but it was difficult to tell, as it was always smiling and laughing, and Harry's own mouth tended to stay much more serious most of the time.

"That's probably lucky, of course," Ron went right on, bouncing James a little bit as the baby sucked on his own fingers. "He got the Weasley looks- they turn out pretty awesome."

Hermione rolled her eyes again, but she didn't hide her amusement. Instead, she watched Ron play with James for several more moments, loving the way he seemed to be enjoying his nephew. It made the dull ache inside of her even stronger, though.

"He told me he wanted a little baby cousin," she said seriously, watching Ron who kept his gaze fixed on James and refused to meet her eye.

"Oh, did he? Better tell Angelina to get back to work soon then."

She narrowed her eyes, knowing he could see her from the corner of his own. She was right, of course, because he laughed a second later.

"Oh, come on," he said, pulling James into a more easily balanced position. "He'll get one soon enough, I promise."

Hermione sighed, knowing he didn't want to have this conversation. She'd broached the subject with him briefly the night he'd come home, and he'd done nothing but make jokes then, either. And she didn't want to pressure him, either- not at all. That wasn't her intention, especially since she knew her own suddenly overwhelming desire wasn't the most plausible plan in the world. They didn't exactly have the money to have a baby, and they certainly weren't in the ideal position, either, seeing as how they weren't even married yet. She knew it would happen eventually, so she told herself that she just needed to be patient and wait until she was in a better situation.

Still, she wanted to know how he felt about one thing. "Do you feel weird being the only one in your family who's not married with children?" Ron turned his head then and actually looked at her. He was hesitating, as though he wasn't sure whether it was a trick question or not. "Besides Charlie, of course," she added needlessly, as everyone knew Charlie didn't really count.

"No, I don't feel weird," he said finally. "Should I?"

She just shrugged one shoulder, but then she shook her head. "No. I just didn't know if it bothered you at all."

"No, it doesn't bother me. I mean, we'll be married in a few months. It's not like I'm way behind or something."

She nodded slowly, glancing down at her left hand where the engagement ring fit perfectly. She didn't know where all her impatience was coming from all of a sudden. She'd always been so content with their life, but lately, everything just seemed to be moving at a snail's pace, and she was eager for something big to happen.

"Besides, we've been together longer than most of them have anyway," Ron went on, once again shifting James's position. "_And _they're not as lucky as us, either."

"How so?"

"None of _them _got to fall in love with _their _best friend, did they?"

She could tell by the look on his face that he was purposely trying to butter her up, and she'd be lying completely if she tried to say it wasn't working. She didn't hide her smile when he leaned over and kissed her cheek quickly. It reminded her of a conversation they'd had years before when they were just seventeen and one night made a pact to always be best friends no matter what. And so far, they'd managed to keep that pact.

Best friends wouldn't be complete without Harry, though, and he ironically showed up right around that time. He looked confused to see them in the stairwell and held his hands up in question.

"Where is everyone?"

"Quidditch," Ron answered at exactly the same time Hermione said, "Easter eggs."

Harry looked at them both for a second, hesitating, and then he nodded. "Quidditch." Ron smirked and nodded, too, as Harry joined them on the stairs, sitting a few steps below them.

"Where've you been? It's almost two o'clock." Hermione glanced at her watch as she spoke and then watched as Harry turned sideways on the stair and leaned his head backwards against the wall. He looked tired and exhausted.

"Maxwell _and _Johnson both called out today, so we were short. Everyone else was out, so I had to stay and watch the office until Harper got in for the evening shift." Hermione didn't know who any of those people were, but she didn't figure it was important. "It was boring as hell," Harry went on. "But I did have enough time to finally write that letter to the legal department opposing the werewolf crap."

Now it was Ron who was confused, and he looked between them blankly. Hermione had told him a little about the proposal her department was working on to infringe on werewolf rights, but she hadn't had the opportunity to tell him a lot of it. She was thankful, though, that Harry had finally got around to writing something up. He'd promised to help her, but he'd been so busy lately that she'd started to wonder if he was actually going to manage it. She'd worked on it nonstop herself, but she wasn't sure how much pull she was going to have against the rest of her department.

It didn't matter, though, because in the next instance, Ron was pulling an awful face and shoving the baby down to Harry. "I think he shit himself," he said, wrinkling his nose in disgust. Harry caught him just in time and seemed to get a whiff of whatever Ron was smelling the second he had James in his hands. He pulled a nearly identical face, and Hermione couldn't help rolling her eyes.

"Oh, give him here," she said with slightly feigned exasperation as she stood up and took James from his father who handed him off willingly. Truthfully, James _did _smell rather awful, but he was an infant. Infants pooed themselves. She would take him and get him cleaned up and into a fresh nappy while Ron and Harry lounged on the stairs talking about anything and everything, nothing of which was probably important in the slightest. Still, it was nice and familiar. Even if they _did _stick her with the diapers.

Boys.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading, and I think an outtake will probably be coming soon…..


	41. Dress Disasters

**BACK TO THE BEGINNING**

**Chapter 41**

**DRESS DISASTERS**

Weddings.

Ginny could see how they were a lot more fun when they weren't your own. She'd never been terribly involved in any before her own, though. She'd always preferred to just stand to the side, wear whatever dress was thrown at her by her brothers' fiancés, and show up to the locale. That was pretty much it.

Her own wedding had been nothing but stress and a series of breakdowns. She blamed at least some of that on her pregnancy hormones, though, as looking back, she didn't think she'd be _quite _that hysterical in different circumstances. If she had it to do over again, she thought that she would probably just sit back and enjoy it more. When the actual wedding itself happened, she realized that it wasn't worth all the stress and tears she'd put into it. It was simple and fun, and she wished she could have known that it would all turn out fine. But, of course, hindsight was nearly always 20/20.

So she decided to make up with it by throwing herself headfirst into planning her brother's wedding. Well, Hermione was helping a bit, too, but she actually seemed less eager to plan her own wedding than she had to plan Ginny's. That surprised Ginny, really, because after watching her own wedding preparations, she'd expected Hermione to be very controlling and anal about the whole thing, but she seemed to be more concerned with whatever she was doing at work than she was with her rapidly approaching wedding. Harry, too, seemed overly concerned with whatever Hermione was doing at work, but Ginny wasn't interested enough to devote too much effort into finding out all the details. To her, it sounded like a whole lot of paperwork and a whole lot of bore.

The upcoming wedding was much more interesting.

There was one major difference, though, between the wedding she'd planned for last July and the one she was planning for this July- the size. As low-key as she'd tried to keep it, her wedding had been on the larger scale as far as backyard events at the Burrow went. That in itself was strange, considering the fact that out of all her siblings, she was the only one marrying an orphan with no family whatsoever. Still, Harry was important. People _wanted _to go to his wedding. She was a Quidditch star. People _wanted _to go to hers. It was annoying in a way, but there were certain expectations that they had to meet- even if it _did _feel a bit fake.

Ron and Hermione faced some of those same expectations, but they were under less pressure than she and Harry had been. And Hermione simply didn't want it. She had very little family who would be attending, as her family was entirely Muggle and, therefore, not the ideal guests at a magical wedding. She also had a firm desire that she actually _know _each person attending her wedding. Ginny sort of wished that she'd made the same demand, as she'd quickly realized that there were plenty of people at the reception who she was positive she'd never before seen. Hermione just wanted their families and a few close friends. And by close, she didn't mean their entire Hogwarts class or the entire Ministry- she just meant the people she still talked to personally on a regular basis.

Simple. That was the word she used to describe it.

Of course, there were some things that she didn't want to take the simplest route on. There were some things that she also didn't just want to hand over to Ginny completely, either, and one of those was her dress. Ginny had not enjoyed shopping for her own wedding gown because every time she'd gone for a fitting, her size had changed. It had not been a pleasant experience, but she could see how it would be a bit more fun if you didn't have to worry about an ever-expanding baby bump getting in the way and ruining your look.

Hermione did not have that problem.

Her mum took them dress shopping in Muggle London one Saturday. Ginny had been overly-eager for the chance, but Hermione had confided that she was less than thrilled about shopping with her mum because she had a tendency to "control things." Ginny simply told her not to allow it. Besides, Ellen didn't strike her as the controlling type. She was generally a very laid-back and friendly woman, and Ginny couldn't really imagine her trying to take over the wedding planning or nose into it where she wasn't needed. Now her _own _mum? Ginny could definitely see that. She _had _seen that. But Molly Weasley and Ellen Granger were nearly opposites when it came to pretty much everything. They got along well, but they certainly had very different ideas about things and issues. Ginny imagined that Ellen was the type who would simply hand over her purse and tell them to have at it.

She found out rather quickly that she was wrong.

The day started off pleasantly enough. Ellen took them to a rather posh restaurant for lunch, and they'd all ordered expensive seafood dishes with wine to drink. Ginny, especially, enjoyed it, as she rarely went anywhere at all these days unless it was to visit her parents. It reminded her of what her life had been like just a year before. Of course, the last time she sat in a restaurant this nice, she hadn't had a baby carrier in the seat beside her. She wasn't even able to properly enjoy her food the way she should have been because she kept worrying that James would wake up and start wailing and embarrass them all in the ultra-upscale but ultra-_quiet _restaurant. By some miracle, though, he slept peacefully throughout the entire meal and didn't even crack an eyelid once.

After lunch, though, it was time to get to the shopping. Ginny wasn't an overly girly girl. Her mum had attempted that when she was born, shoving her into pink dresses and hair ribbons, obviously thrilled to finally have a little girl after six boys. But that was the problem- there were six boys. There were six older brothers who teased her and picked on her and forced her to toughen up quickly. If she wanted anyone to play with, she was relegated to "boy games," which meant that she spent her entire childhood dirtying up her pink dresses and losing her hair ribbons in the mud banks by the pond. She was tough, and she could fight just as well as her brothers could. She could run and she could climb and she could spit like nobody's business. Still, there was a part of her that relished the girly things in life. She liked getting dressed up and looking pretty. She liked giggling and gossiping. And she certainly liked shopping. She'd never known how great it was until she'd grown up and got a bit of money playing Quidditch. Now she was even richer, and she could honestly say that shopping was her favorite activity.

She loved it even more when she wasn't shopping on her own tab.

The bridal shop they ended up in was a small, privately owned store that stocked few, though very high-end, designers. Ginny immediately fell in love the second they stepped through the doors. It made her envious for her own opportunity again, and she felt that if she had it to do all over, she would make a conscious effort to enjoy herself and take everything in stride.

Hermione, though, did not seem to share her carefree attitude.

She instantly looked uncomfortable, though her mum didn't seem to notice. Ginny could tell, though, that she was not exactly thrilled to be in a store where one dress was equal to three months' rent. They were approached immediately by one of the workers who introduced herself as Victoria. She had a pinched sort of look that strongly reminded Ginny of Professor McGonagall, though the idea of McGonagall in a Muggle bridal shop was actually laughable.

"How may I assist you this afternoon?" Victoria had a very put on accent that was clearly the result of trying too hard to fit in with the clientele. Ginny glanced sideways at Hermione, thinking that she, too, would be highly amused by this. Hermione, however, was just staring dully into space as her mother explained the situation.

"My daughter, Hermione," she motioned to her for accent, as though they didn't look exactly alike, "is getting married in July. We would just like to view some options."

"Oh, yes, of course." In addition to a fake accent, Victoria also appeared to have fake teeth, as her smile was unnaturally white. She also did not have a single line on her face- it was as if someone had cast a spell to freeze her face. She went into some incredibly fake spill, congratulating Hermione and orgasming over the ring. It was all so fake and so, _so _annoying. Hermione didn't even have the decency to find it hilarious, though. In fact, she looked a little ill.

She seemed relieved when Victoria turned her attention instead to James, squeeing over him the same as she'd done over the engagement ring. He smiled and giggled for her, already perfecting his flirting technique. Ginny, though, was losing feeling in her arm, and she had to break up the little love-fest and set the baby carrier down. Besides, she didn't want her son being wooed by an older woman who was probably only after him for his money.

It didn't matter anyway, as Victoria immediately turned her attention back to Hermione, shooing her toward the back of the shop for measurements. Hermione looked backwards over her shoulder pleadingly, and Ginny nodded, agreeing to follow even though she was so tired from carrying the baby that she literally dreaded bending over to remove him from his carrier. She did, though, because she wanted to be a good friend.

"Here, I'll watch him." Ellen reached for James as Ginny struggled under his weight to stand back up.

"You're sure?" Ellen nodded, and Ginny handed him over gratefully before dashing toward the back of the shop after Hermione and Victoria.

She caught up with them in the fitting area where Victoria seemed to be alternating between accosting Hermione with a tape measure and scribbling down numbers in a little book. Hermione looked infinitely thankful when Ginny showed up, though, voicing her appreciation with the grateful look in her eyes. And then, before they knew it, she was hurrying back to the floor to get what she termed as "samples."

"Where's James?" Hermione stepped down from the tiny stoop she was currently standing on and straightened out her clothes.

"Your mum's got him."

"Good. Maybe he'll keep her occupied, and she won't be back here nagging me."

"I really don't know why you think she's going to nag you," Ginny said, sitting down gracelessly onto a padded stool. "She doesn't seem like the type at all."

"She's not normally. But things like this… She's very opinionated."

Ginny didn't have a chance to say anything else, though, because Victoria returned with an assistant and literally an armful of dresses. They looked extremely heavy, and Ginny mentally counted them as they were hung up. Six in all. There looked like a lot more, but that was probably due to the fact that each dress probably weighed as much as a nine year old.

"You haven't got proper undergarments, I assume," Victoria said dismissively, "but we'll worry with that later. Go ahead and try these, and we'll look at all the options."

She made no movement to leave, and Hermione stood unresponsive for a moment, obviously wondering if she was expected to strip naked right there in the middle of the fitting section. Luckily, Ginny was a bit more observant, and she pushed Hermione toward one of the changing rooms with one hand as she grabbed the first dress with her other.

"There's special _underwear?" _Hermione hissed the second they were shut in the changing room.

"Well, you want to be tucked in and pushed up in the right spots, don't you?" Ginny hung the dress up, thankful to be rid of its weight.

Hermione didn't look as though she'd considered the fact that she had bits that needed to be tucked and pushed. "Well, what is it?" she asked, completely bewildered. "I don't remember you having to get special knickers just to fit in your wedding gown."

Ginny struggled not to roll her eyes. "Right. Because special knickers were going to tuck my five month pregnant stomach in? And I certainly didn't need anything pushed up at that point in time." She gave in and rolled them anyway. "_Normal _people who get married usually don't have the added help of an unborn kid helping to fill up the bodice of their dress."

Hermione just shook her head silently, obviously still affected by the thought of special undergarments, as she finally stripped down to her more normal ones and moved to take the dress of the hanger.

"Good god," she said, unhooking it, "this thing weighs more than I do!"

Ginny glanced at Hermione's now mostly unclothed body and had to agree. Skinny. Hermione was skinny. She'd always been skinny. She'd never been extremely curvy or anything like that- something _she _was sometimes bothered by. Ginny had personally never given much thought to it, as she'd always been rather pleased with her own body. Or maybe pleased was the wrong term- she'd just never been too concerned. This, of course, was probably mostly due to the fact that she'd always kept her body in shape without ever really trying. It sort of came with the Quidditch.

But now… Now she didn't have Quidditch to keep her fit. She also had a hefty baby boy to thank for the fact that her stomach was no longer flat and was, instead, still a bit rounded. So now, even though she'd rarely given it a second thought in the past, it was all she could see when she glanced in the mirror these days. So seeing Hermione, who still seemed just as thin as she was when she was a teenager, bugged her a bit.

She said none of this.

She couldn't, really, because she was distracted by the fact that Hermione looked absolutely _gorgeous. _Right. Of _course _she would look flawless in the very first dress she tried on. It just wasn't fair.

"That looks great," she said seriously, hardly believing how beautiful the dress looked.

Hermione, though, seemed completely unfazed. "I can't wear this," she said, frowning at herself in the full-length mirror. "It's cut way too low."

"Are you _serious?" _Ginny rolled her eyes again. "It is _not _too low. I'm fairly positive that the man you're marrying has already seen it cut a bit lower than that."

Hermione stopped tugging at the neckline and turned around to face Ginny with a very cross look on her face. "Well, that would be just fine, wouldn't it," she asked in the voice she always used when she was hoarding her intelligence over someone, "if I were getting married in my _bedroom. _With no one else around!"

The automatic gag reflex was hard to suppress.

Hermione, though, thankfully did _not _seem too interested in discussing the going-ons of her bedroom. Ginny was extremely grateful, as she didn't think she could keep down what tiny bit of the posh lunch she'd had. Hermione, instead, reached behind her to undo the zip of the dress. She was interrupted, though, when two brisk knocks sounded and then the door pushed open uninvited.

"What are you doing?" Ellen asked, stepping straight into the changing room with James in her arms. "Let me see." She pushed Hermione's hand away from the zipper and took a step back to take in the full length of the gown.

"I don't like it," Hermione said firmly. "It's too trashy."

"What in the world is _trashy _about a dress that goes all the way to the floor?" Ellen raised her eyebrows questioningly, and Hermione frowned.

"It's too low cut."

"Too low…" Ellen shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Oh, for god's sake, Hermione, you're twenty-five years old, you're allowed to show a little cleavage. It's not some big secret that you've got breasts!"

Ginny really wanted to laugh, especially given the look of absolute mortification that Hermione produced a second later. _"Mum!" _she hissed, obviously completely scandalized. She once again reached around to start removing the dress, but her mother protested.

"Don't take it off yet! We need to let the salesgirl see it."

"Why?" Hermione's eyes were wide and pointed as she defiantly unzipped the dress. "If I don't like it, we're not going to get it, so what's the point in showing anyone else?"

"Oh, fine." Ellen shook her head once again and added, "You're behaving ridiculously."

"Didn't you just say I was twenty-five years old?" Hermione stepped out of the dress and handed it to Ginny who still had the hanger. "Why are you lecturing me on my behavior?"

Ginny still wanted to laugh, but she held it in. She was a little bit shocked, truthfully, as she was fairly certain that if she tried that type of sass with her own mother, it would end very badly for her. But perhaps that was the difference between being twenty-five and twenty-three- maybe at twenty-five you were allowed to be rude with your mum, she didn't know. Or maybe her own mother was just mean. Either way, it didn't matter because witnessing it from a distance was rather amusing.

Hermione looked rather put out, though, so Ginny just pretended not to notice the rising tempers that were surrounding her. Instead, she busied herself by preparing another gown. It had a higher neckline, which probably meant that it was going to look absolutely ridiculous, but she said nothing as she undid the buttons and helped Hermione step into it. She didn't pay much attention as she went about doing the buttons back up in the back, but she happened to glance at the mirror about halfway up the back and was stunned.

Hermione looked _beautiful._

She, too, seemed to notice this, as she was staring at her reflection with a rather dazed sort of look. The dress wasn't even done all the way up, but it seemed to have been made just for her.

"Oh, now that's pretty," Ellen said, smiling a genuine look of appreciation.

Hermione didn't say anything. She just continued to stand at the mirror and stare.

Ginny did her best to do the rest of the buttons up quickly, but she ran into trouble when one got hung on its rung. "Can you help me?" she asked Ellen, struggling to dislodge the stuck button. Ellen nodded and came around to assist. It was difficult, though, as James, too, apparently wanted to help. He groped aimlessly for the fabric and nearly toppled himself straight out of Ellen's arms. Ginny would have been alarmed if Ellen didn't have the sense to realize how awful an idea it was to have him back there. She handed him off to Hermione and then joined right in on getting the button unstuck. Ginny gripped the fabric of the dress as Ellen slid the button out of its spot and got it unstuck.

It was a short-lived victory….

"James, _no!" _Hermione sounded panicked, and Ginny looked up to see her holding the baby at arm's length with a horrified expression on her face. It didn't take long to figure out what the emergency was, as the beautiful wedding dress was now sporting a very distinctive stain of something that was unmistakably baby vomit.

"Oh, my _god!" _Hermione gasped hysterically.

Ginny just stared in her own horror and echoed her. "Oh, my god…"

Ellen, though, looked the most panicked- probably because she was the one financially responsible for the now puke-stained dress. The thought of whether or not she'd have to pay for it, since it was _her _baby, flitted across Ginny's mind. It was broken, though, when Hermione started hissing hysterical instructions.

"Mum, take him!" she ordered, yelling in a mere whisper. "Ginny, _fix _it!"

Ginny cottoned on instantly and reached straight for her bag, grabbing her wand out of it.

"No, you can't!" Ellen said, then quickly lowered her voice as she hastily wiped away at James's mouth. "Not in a _store!"_

"I'm not sure if legally you're supposed to see this," Ginny told her, ignoring her protests. "So you might want to close your eyes."

She didn't give her a chance to object again before taking aim and quickly, but precisely, uttering a spell to fix the damage. Thankfully it worked, and everyone let out a giant sigh of relief when the dress appeared spotless and vomit-free. Hermione, though, seemed to be on emotional overload, and her eyes welled up with tears the second she was clean.

"It's okay," Ginny said quickly. "You can't tell a thing!"

But Hermione seemed not to hear her. Instead, her eyes continued to water as she looked at herself in the mirror. She seemed overwhelmed, but Ginny didn't know if it was a matter in which she should feel sorry for her. It didn't seem like a sympathy-inducing sort of cry. The tears seemed to be more of the… I can't believe it, I'm finally getting married, and this is the dress… variety.

"That's the dress, isn't it?" Ginny stepped backwards to take in the full view. It really _was _perfect on her.

Hermione, though, just nodded, her eyes still wet and watery.

"I think it's lovely," Ellen said, rubbing a soothing circle across James's back. She smiled fondly and seemed a bit emotional herself. That idea was killed, though, when she finished with, "Now let's go show the shop girl."

Hermione rolled her eyes, snapping out of her momentary overload. Ginny bit back a smile. She was amused, of course, by the dramatics of Granger and Granger, but she felt genuinely happy and excited. Seeing Hermione look so pretty really made the whole thing real.

And she was _certainly _determined to enjoy this wedding _far_ more than she had her own.

A/N: Thanks for reading!


	42. Sarcasm and Sleep

**BACK TO THE BEGINNING  
Chapter 42**

**SARCASM AND SLEEP**

Sometimes Harry couldn't remember why he decided to become an Auror.

He'd had enough danger in his life to last him a lifetime. Hell, he'd had enough by the time he was twelve. When he was eighteen and trying to decide what to do with his life, he didn't know what made him think that he'd like to keep it going and enter the most dangerous profession he could. It was probably a mixture of guilt and insanity, mixed in with a slight need for revenge. He didn't like admitting that part- the revenge part. It made people think he was even crazier than he probably already was. People liked to speculate on his mental stability. He didn't know what they found so interesting. He thought there were probably lots of people who _wanted _him to be mental because it made a much better story than the truth. He wasn't completely normal, of course, but he wasn't as bad as people probably liked to believe. Or at least _he_ didn't think so. He'd never actually had a professional evaluation or anything like that, even though plenty of people had tried to push him toward various psychological healers in the months following the war. He didn't feel as if he needed it, though.

Mostly, he just didn't like talking.

Not about the kind of stuff healers would want to talk about anyway. Even if he'd gone, though, he never would have been comfortable enough to open up because he had certain trust issues that he wasn't sure he could move past. He talked to Ron and Hermione. He talked to Ginny. He didn't talk to too many other people. He had problems opening up, and he didn't think that was terribly surprising, given the massive amount of utter _shit _he'd been through. He didn't think it was unusual that he didn't want to rehash it and relive it anymore than necessary. But that was another reason he sometimes reconsidered his choice of profession.

Even though he had a rather unadmitted need for revenge, he still found himself bothered sometimes when he was put into situations where his past was revisited. Most of the Death Eaters were in prison now, and the few who weren't had enough sense to keep quiet and not bring attention to themselves. But there were still reminders of the past in everyday occurrences for the Auror department. There were still people who whispered of the "old ways" and still those who committed heinous acts of hatred and prejudice. Harry was used it, of course, but it didn't make dealing with it any easier.

For the past week, everyone in the department had been focused on a string of terrorist acts that had recently been committed against various Muggleborns and their family members. So far, no one was dead, but everyone knew it was a very real possibility, and they were doing everything they could to make sure it didn't reach that level. It was all hitting a little too close to home for Harry, and he found himself consumed with it all hours of the day. Even when he was sleeping, the images and thoughts would somehow find their way into his dreams. He'd stopped having nightmares years ago, but there were occasions when the dreams would pop back up, and ever since all of this mess had been happening, he'd been seeing the threat of the return of nightmares as a very real possibility.

Ginny seemed to know something was up, and she'd even come straight out and asked him what was going on. He didn't think that she was necessarily worried that things might go back to the way they'd been, but she could obviously tell that something was up. Harry, though, just lied and said it was nothing. Admitting it out loud made it more real, and that was the last thing he wanted. So he just pretended as if everything was normal and did his best to ignore the nagging feeling of dread he was starting to have. After all, it certainly wasn't as if he had a ton of free time on his hands to dwell on that sort of thing anyway. He had a full-time job that required upwards of sixty hours of work weekly, not to mention, of course, the five month old baby that kept him more than occupied at home.

James was growing so fast that it almost didn't seem possible. He was no longer the frail little infant that had seemed so fragile and breakable months before. Now he was thick and sturdy and full of reactions and facial expressions. He was sleeping better for the most part, but he was better than an alarm clock when it came to daily 5 AM wake up calls. He woke up each and every day like clockwork, crying just long enough to get someone's attention and then laughing straight through his morning changing and feeding. He was nearly always happy, which, of course, was certainly a good thing, as a giggling baby was far preferable to a screeching one. Harry always got up with him in the mornings and let Ginny sleep in just a little bit longer. After all, he was the one who needed to be up and ready anyway, so it just made more sense. There were mornings, though, when he wished that James had a snooze button, just so he could get in five more minutes of rest.

He was exhausted.

He was tired and sleepy, and there were moments when he was sure that he'd trade his entire Gringotts vault for six or seven hours of uninterrupted sleep. That wasn't reality, though, and he somehow didn't think it would ever be reality again. By the time six o'clock rolled around, he'd already been awake for thirteen hours, had been at work for twelve, and had relaxed for zero. He wanted to go home and straight to bed, but he couldn't do that, either, because he'd already promised to help Hermione with her research for the werewolf protection act she was secretly working on. It was sort of amusing, of course, as Hermione certainly wasn't someone who typically needed assistance when it came to researching. She certainly didn't need someone like Harry who didn't know the first thing about reference books. What she needed, though, was someone who she could boss around and make fetch things for her and take notes. And since Ron wasn't around, that fell to Harry. He couldn't get out of it, either, because he'd already promised to help her with the whole thing- he couldn't go back now and tell her that he didn't want to include research in his list of offered services. Even if the thought of it did sort of make him want to off himself.

He didn't go straight to her flat from work, though. He went home, hoping to at least grab some dinner and change clothes. He had a feeling that he would be overwhelmed with the desire to just go to bed, but he told himself not to let that happen. He wasn't going to just leave Hermione alone when he'd already promised to help her. That would make him a bad friend, not to mention unreliable. He didn't want to use either of those terms to describe himself, so he always made every effort to honor his commitments.

When he got home, though, he was surprised to find it much quieter than usual. There was no baby crying _or _giggling, nor was there any infant mobile chirping away a cheery little song of distraction. Harry actually thought the house was empty at first, but he realized it wasn't a few moments later when Ginny appeared smiling widely. He wasn't sure what the good mood was for, but he found it cemented a second later when she forwent a verbal greeting by kissing him happily. She twisted her fingers behind his neck and brought his face down just enough to where she could meet his lips easily. She kissed with an obvious purpose, and when she was finished, she let his head move back to a more comfortable position without moving her hands from behind his neck.

"Hi," she said sweetly in a voice that made her sound much younger than she actually was.

He was caught off-guard and a bit confused, and he steadied himself by placing his hands on her hips. "Hey," he answered back, and he was sure that the confusion was evident in his voice.

"I thought you were never going to get home!" She smiled again and then grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the dining area. "I made your favorite," she said, stopping in the entryway to the dining room and signaling the table, which was, in fact, full of all his favorites.

Ginny was still smiling widely, but Harry's mind immediately went into overdrive trying to place whatever event he was missing. It was just May, their anniversary wouldn't be until July. Her birthday was in August. It wasn't a holiday… He had a feeling that he was missing something huge and that if he didn't come up with it quickly, things were going to end quite badly for him. But no matter how he wracked his brain, he couldn't come up with anything that would warrant such a good mood and this dinner. He was fucked.

"Where's James?" he asked, treading carefully, hoping that maybe the answer might give him some sort of hint as to what he was looking for.

"He's at Mum's. She's going to keep him overnight." Ginny still looked rather giddy, but the answer just made him even more nervous. It was the first time she'd ever sent the baby away overnight, so whatever he was missing must have been huge. He didn't know what to do, though- he couldn't come right out and _ask _her what the occasion was. That would be even worse than going along with it blindly. At least if he just went with it, he might eventually catch on.

He tried to prod it along just a bit. "I can't believe you let him go for a whole night." He tried to smile at her, but he was afraid it came out looking a bit strained.

Ginny either didn't notice or didn't care. "I know," she said, over-exaggerating a frown. "He'll be okay, though. Besides, you've just been working so much that I just wanted to give you a break."

A break.

Was that all it was? She was just being nice because she thought he was overworked? If that was all, then maybe he wasn't as fucked as he thought. At the very least, he wouldn't be expected to pull a gift out of his arse or anything like that. He'd already been wracking his brain trying to figure out how he would explain away his lack of present for whatever they were celebrating. But maybe he didn't need one after all. If that was the case, then he wasn't quite as dead as he'd planned on.

"You're the best," he said, giving her an actual genuine grin as she pulled him toward the table and shoved him into a chair. She sat down across from him and started shoveling food onto his plate in a way that no one besides her mum had ever really done. He immediately made the separation in his head because even though she might _cook _like her mum, her mum never looked so hot doing it.

She was dressed up a little bit. Nothing fancy, of course, but she was actually in a pair of jeans and a nice top for once, which was a rarity, considering the fact that since the baby'd been born, she'd spent most of her time in track bottoms and t-shirts. She also had a little bit of makeup on, too- something else she no longer wore on a daily basis. He didn't care either way, of course, because he thought she was always beautiful. She looked gorgeous every day no matter what. But he had a feeling that she preferred this sort of state to the one where she only managed a shower once every three days and often wore a mix of baby food and spit up on her clothes.

"This smells great," he said honestly, looking down at the heaping plate of food she'd just shoved at him.

Ginny began filling the glasses with wine. "I hope it's good. I tried it a little bit different than usual, but I think it should still be alright."

He sort of lost her mid-sentence because he started eating, and everything else ceased to exist. Whatever she'd done differently had definitely worked because the meal was even better than usual. It was delicious, and it didn't hurt that he was insanely hungry, too. He hadn't eaten since breakfast, and that had simply been a bit of toast and eggs. He couldn't even remember the last time they'd sat down to a dinner like this, and he noticed how drastically different things were when there wasn't also a baby to tend to.

Ginny seemed to read his mind. She nibbled at her own food and sipped her wine slowly. "It's so quiet here without James, isn't it? It's like a whole different world."

"Yeah," he agreed, shoveling more food into his mouth. "It's crazy."

"It's so quiet. And calm… No distractions…"

He didn't even notice the change in her voice until he realized she was leaning in closer to him. It was lower and quieter, a sure sign that she was going for seductive. He knew for sure he was right a second later when she placed a hand high on his leg and let it rest there.

"Is it good?" She tilted her head slightly toward his plate, and he nodded numbly, as it was difficult to concentrate on too much of anything beyond the location of her hand. "I'm glad you like it," she smiled softly. She snuck in then and kissed again, brushing her lips very lightly against his own in a way that was so damn innocent, it was likely to drive him mad right there. Her lips had the distinct taste of wine to them, and he had a feeling that she'd been sipping it well before he ever got home.

"I almost forgot what it was like to have so much peace and quiet," she said, pulling back, though she didn't lean too far away. "And we have the whole night just by ourselves." Her eyes were sparkling in a very telling sort of way, and Harry immediately realized what was going on.

Not wanting to be hexed straight away, he busied himself with finishing his dinner. If he was going to die, he would at least like to do it on a full stomach- dying hungry just seemed too cruel. It was hard, though, concentrating on his dinner. Ginny's hand continued to creep sneakily up his thigh until it was nearing a wholly inappropriate area. In a way, he wanted nothing more than for it to keep going. Another part of him, though, wished that she'd stop torturing him. It was a very conflicting sort of emotion.

Somehow, he got distracted enough to not even notice when she moved in for the kill. He couldn't protest or say anything at all, though, because she once again pressed her lips to his. This time, however, there was nothing gentle and innocent about it. He couldn't find the strength or, in fact, the desire to fight it, though, and he found himself getting very caught up in the way she was kissing him and the direction that her hand was still headed. Dinner was already long-forgotten in the few seconds since he'd dropped his fork back to the plate.

He needed to be leaving already. He knew in the back of his head that he'd made a commitment and that he needed to follow through with it. He knew that if he let this go too far that he could easily slip past the point of no return. He knew that he shouldn't break his promises and that he should do whatever he could do to help his friends. All of that was very much common knowledge.

He just found recalling any of it extremely difficult when Ginny was practically crawling into his lap and was kissing him in a way he couldn't really remember happening too many times since they'd become parents. That was another thing. They were parents, yes, but they were also quite young and were, by all relative standards, still newlyweds. They should be allowed to have fun. If she wanted to banish all the dishes and shag right there on the dining table, he should be well into it. And he _was. _But that was the bad part- the reason he knew he needed to put an end to it now rather than later.

"I have to work." He barely got the words out in a split second of break that their lips took from each other. Ginny just sort of laughed and rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, right." Then she moved straight back in.

Her lips just barely brushed his, though, before he leaned back and put an end to it. "No, seriously," he said, regretting the words just as he spoke them.

Ginny looked at him like he was crazy. She stilled all her movements, though, and stared at him in disbelief. _"Now? _You just got home!"

"I don't have to go back to the office, I just have to go help Hermione." He wondered if he was really mental to even _think _about breaking off whatever was going to happen. Yes, he decided, he certainly was. "I don't think it'll take too long, though," he said, trying desperately to make it sound less horrible than it was. "I think she just wants to do some research."

Ginny just stared at him. Her eyes were a bit wider, and her eyebrows raised slightly. She said nothing.

"Are you angry?" he asked, fully preparing himself for the shouting he was about to endure. He was surprised, though, when Ginny just shook her head calmly.

"No, I just can't believe I forgot all that."

"Forgot all what?"

He should have known it was a trap. "Oh, just the bit where you married _her _and where _she _spent eleven hours in labor having your child. That's all."

And there it was.

Ginny snapped from sweet and seductive to sullen and sarcastic in a split second. She could manage that easily, of course, as she was a bit of a pro at it. He knew this all too well, so he wasn't at all surprised by her reaction, nor was he surprised when she untangled herself from him and stood up to banish the dishes back to the kitchen- his half-eaten meal obviously not a concern of hers. She wasn't clearing the table for a shag-fest, either, as his mind had earlier fantasized. She was clearing it now out of anger and frustration. He knew that was his cue to feel bad, but he got distracted looking at how perfectly her jeans fit over her backside and how her hair was longer than she normally kept it. He wondered why he hadn't noticed before then, but he supposed she mostly kept it pulled up so he wouldn't really have too much of an opportunity to notice.

"Ginny," he said slowly, finally snapping out of his momentary daze, "don't be mad. I won't be gone very long, we just have to go over a few things."

"Oh, no," she said, and her voice dripped with iciness. "Stay as long as you please. Don't cut it short on _my _behalf."

He regretted ever even speaking up. If he'd kept his mouth shut, she'd probably be naked by now, and her mouth would be occupied in ways other than mean sarcasm. Did it really even matter if he made it to Hermione's tonight? She would survive. She was certainly intelligent enough to manage on her own for one night. Sometimes he hated himself for feeling so damn loyal to people. He felt on occasion that his extreme feelings of indebtedness would someday come to ruin his life. It wasn't that he necessarily thought loyalty was a _bad _thing, he just knew that it was something that could very easily be taken to extremes. He didn't want it to be something that held him back and interfered in other areas of his life.

Speaking of other areas of his life… Ginny finished up what she was doing rather quickly and disappeared upstairs without a word. Harry was left sitting at the empty table, wondering what his next move should be. If he went ahead with his original plan, Ginny was going to be furious. She would hold it against him for days, and he'd be subjected to angry words and disinterested conversations. If he went _against _his original plan and stayed home, _Hermione _would be angry. She would tell him that he was unreliable and make him feel guilty beyond belief. He wasn't entirely positive that Ginny would even be happy with him in that situation. He'd already told her of his plans, so she was already pissed off. Even if he stayed home, she probably wouldn't speak to him- she certainly wouldn't be game to pick up where they'd left off. So overall, he had two choices- he could have one girl mad at him or two.

He decided on the one.

It took merely seconds to get to London by Apparition, but each time he did it, Harry was always a little bit afraid that he'd over or undershoot his landing and appear in the middle of Piccadilly Circus or something. Therefore, he was always thankful when he managed a proper landing in a secluded back alley or something else properly deserted. Hermione lived on the fourth floor of a walk-up, and it _was _necessary to walk up because Apparating straight into the corridor could very likely spell disaster in the otherwise all Muggle building. Harry didn't mind the stairs, though, but what he _did _mind was the fact that no one answered when he knocked on the door.

He knocked several times, in fact, waiting rather impatiently to be let in. He could hear mewing from the other side of the door and suspected that Crookshanks was probably on the other side of the door laughing to himself about whomever was stuck outside. The cat was a little bastard like that. Harry lost patience rather quickly and knocked even louder, wondering if Hermione was even home from work yet. He checked his watch, though, and saw that it was long past the time when she would have left. Because of this, he began to get a bit worried. He knew Hermione couldn't be at the Ministry any longer, and it wasn't like her to run around the city after work or anything like that. Deciding he needed to investigate, he glanced around quickly before using his wand to unlock the door and let himself in. The lights were on in the flat, which clearly meant she was home. Crookshanks kind of sneered at him for a second before scurrying off toward the kitchen. Harry ignored him and slowly made his way through the flat. He certainly didn't want to startle Hermione, but he wanted to know what the hell she was doing that made answering the door so impossible.

He found out when he cautiously peeked through her slightly cracked bedroom door.

Hermione was asleep. She was tucked under a pile of blankets, and her hair was sprawled haphazardly all over her pillows. She still appeared to be in her work clothing, but she seemed completely and fully knocked out. Harry didn't know whether to laugh or be angry. He decided on the second one. He himself was exhausted beyond belief, but he'd forgone his own sleep to come over here and help her. And _she _was asleep.

"_Hermione!" _he hissed angrily, walking over to the bed and reaching out a hand to shove her shoulder. She was nonresponsive at first, but when he shook her a second time, she seemed to snap awake suddenly, her eyes flying open for a second before she realized what she was looking at and let out a breath.

"What're you doing?" she mumbled, her eyes slipping back shut as she turned her head away and buried back into her pillows.

"What am I doing?" he repeated. "I'm here because we were supposed to be _working. _On _your _work!"

Hermione mumbled something completely incomprehensible.

"What did you say?" he asked, staring down at her expectantly, though she had no idea, as her eyes were again closed.

"I don't want to do it tonight!" she finally spoke up, though her eyes remained shut. She wavered back into the whiney mumbling territory with her next sentence. "I'm too tired."

"I'm tired, too!" he said, now completely irritated as he dropped down to sit beside her. "But I came over here because _you _asked me to help you!"

"Shhhh…" Hermione didn't open her eyes as she apparently completely ignored everything he was saying.

He was frustrated beyond belief, but he knew there was no point in arguing with her. He couldn't force her out of bed, and if he tried, she would very likely hex him or something, and he wasn't particularly in the mood for that. Irritated, he flung his head backwards against the wall and looked up bitterly at the ceiling.

He thought briefly about just going home, but he wasn't too interested in the fight that was sure to ensue should he show back up just minutes after leaving. He couldn't imagine everything Ginny would have to say if he told her that he ditched her for Hermione, only to find Hermione passed out and completely unwilling to work. But what was the point in staying there, either? Hermione _wasn't _willing to work. She was absolutely no good when she was tired or sleepy, so he could just imagine how evil she would be if he kept bugging her until she actually got up. The truth was, though, that he wasn't too interested in working, either. He was tired and exhausted and ready for a nap himself.

Without thinking, he let his eyes slip shut, and he found himself fast asleep within minutes.

The rest of it would just have to wait.

A/N: Thanks for reading! Sorry for the delay, but I got sidetracked writing Rose again and fell back in love with her, hahaha!


	43. Insecure Innocence

**BACK TO THE BEGINNING**

**Chapter 43**

**INSECURE INNOCENCE**

She was shocked to wake up and find her bed occupied by another sleeper.

Hermione did not immediately understand why Harry was in her bed, and it took a good thirty seconds of early morning confusion to remember the few minutes she'd awoken during the previous night. She didn't remember him falling asleep, of course, but she also didn't remember him leaving. Brilliant.

But there he was, plain as day, fast asleep on the spot beside her. He was sprawled out over the covers with his face turned nearly flat into one of the pillows. His glasses were skewed and crooked, and his hair was sticking up in a million different directions. She would have to fix those glasses, she could already tell.

"Harry," she whispered loudly, though she didn't know why she was whispering at all. He gave no indication whatsoever of hearing her, so she shoved him a little bit. "_Harry!"_

Harry mumbled something that sounded distinctly like, "Is he awake…"

Hermione had no idea what he was speaking about, of course, and she found herself getting rather cross. "Is _who _awake?"

"James…"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Harry," she said firmly, "James is not here."

Harry finally seemed to wake up a little bit, and he turned his head and opened his eyes, squinting up at her through crooked glasses. He didn't say anything for several moments until he finally shook his head in confusion. "What the fuck?"

"Exactly," she said, not even bothering to chastise him for his language. "Now get out of my bed."

Harry stared at her for several more seconds before finally pushing himself into a sitting position. He still seemed confused as to his whereabouts, though obviously he knew exactly where he was. Perhaps he didn't know exactly _why _he was there, but unless he was drunk the night before, Hermione couldn't see how it would be too difficult to figure out. She got up and walked across the room to adjust the blinds that were wide open and blinding in the bright early morning sun.

"Ginny's going to kill me," Harry said dully, and she looked over to see him still sitting with a rather stunned expression.

"Well, she'd have a right to," Hermione huffed, crossing her arms over her chest pointedly. "What in the world possessed you to fall asleep?"

"What in the world possessed _you _to _be _asleep when I got here?" he shot back, now obviously fully awake as he reached up and started fumbling with his glasses.

"_I _happened to be exhausted," Hermione defended sharply. "I've been working nonstop, so excuse me for needing a bit of a kip!"

"_I'm _exhausted, too!" He finally got his glasses straight and stood up to glare at her just a little bit. "I have to wake up at the arsecrack of dawn every single morning and clean up mashed peas and poo, and then I have to go to work for a million hours, and then I get to come home to _more _peas and poo!"

Hermione couldn't help the way her eyes rolled at his statement. "Oh, yes, poor baby," she said sarcastically. "Maybe next time you'll learn that '_it's fine' _isn't a proper birth control method!"

Harry didn't have an immediate comeback for that, and she could tell he was caught off guard by the way his eyes narrowed curiously at her for a moment. She thought perhaps she should feel bad, but she couldn't force those feelings at the moment even if she wanted to. She didn't know what exactly had thrown her onto that tangent, but it was something she'd been wanting to say to Ginny for months now. But she always bit her tongue whenever Ginny started complaining about how hard life was with a baby. Somehow, though, she figured Harry was less likely to hold a grudge against her. It wasn't that she was terribly judgmental or anything. It just bugged her when they complained about the baby because no one forced them to get pregnant and no one forced them to have a baby. They made their own choices, and she felt that they should just shut up and deal with it.

She just didn't usually go around saying all that.

Harry, it seemed, had already considered all of this and knew that there wasn't even any point in arguing. That's where he and Ginny were night and day. Ginny was as stubborn as Ron, and she would argue nonstop until somebody finally just gave in and conceded to her. It didn't matter if she knew she was wrong or ridiculous or irrational or anything- she'd argue just for the sake of arguing. Harry wasn't like that at all. Harry _could _argue, he just didn't. Not very often anyway- not unless he was certain he was right and felt very passionate about the subject. He was very adept at picking his battles.

"What time is it?" He changed the subject abruptly before looking down at his watch and answering his own question. "It's nearly six."

Hermione was due to be at work by eight, but she knew that Harry generally went in much earlier than that. "You need to go get ready for work," she said needlessly, as if Harry couldn't work that much out for himself. "I need to take a shower."

Harry got the message and disappeared into the bathroom for a couple of minutes before emerging and nodding. "I'm going to get a coffee before I head back. Do you want one?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, thanks."

Harry sighed but nodded, and she had the distinct feeling that he was trying to delay the inevitable- the inevitable, of course, being Ginny. Hermione couldn't really blame him. Ginny was going to be livid, and she could be very mean when she wanted to be. Hermione certainly didn't envy Harry walking back into _that_ this morning. She was sure she'd get it soon enough.

And she did- the very _next _morning.

Saturdays were supposed to be for lie-ins, but that rarely happened. It was certainly impossible when someone was standing over your bed hissing at you to wake up. That was exactly how Hermione found herself the next morning. She knew who her visitor was before she even opened her eyes, and she had maybe half a second to wonder what sort of ward she could put on the flat to keep unwanted Potters out of her bedroom at all hours of the night and early morning.

Really, she wasn't shocked. She'd expected Ginny to show up screeching the day before and had been rather surprised when she didn't. She'd seen Harry for only a few minutes at work, but other than that, she hadn't seen either of them all day. It didn't leave much room for surprise, though, when she woke up to a body standing over her.

"Morning, Ginny," she said begrudgingly, opening her eyes and looking up at a very perturbed looking redhead.

Ginny's lips were pursed, and she said nothing for a moment. She looked on expectantly, as though waiting for Hermione to say something. Hermione didn't know what she was supposed to say, though, so she stayed silent. It didn't matter anyway because Ginny had something prepared.

"Nice to see you waking up alone this morning."

Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She somehow didn't think that reaction would be too advantageous for her. Instead, she sighed softly and sat up. "It was stupid," she said seriously. "I'm sure Harry's told you all about it."

"Right. Except he conveniently left out the bit where he slept in your _bed!" _Ginny's voice rose with the last word, and Hermione didn't know how to react. If Harry had left that part out, then she had no idea how Ginny could possibly know. She also didn't know whether to deny it.

She found the answer to her question a second later, though, when Ginny flung a rolled up newspaper down on the bed. Hermione knew right away that she probably didn't want to read whatever was written in that paper, but she picked it up cautiously nevertheless.

"You made the front page," Ginny said humorlessly, motioning toward a column in the now unfolded paper.

**HARRY POTTER'S SECRET LOVE AFFAIR?**

**Harry Potter, formerly known as The Boy Who Lived, was seen sneaking out of the flat rented by Ministry worker, Hermione Granger. He was spotted leaving the building **_**and**_**, a reliable eye-witness source says, Granger's bed early Friday morning.**

**Potter, who was married in July, recently welcomed a baby boy with his wife. It seems as if married life is leaving quite a bit to be desired, though, as he is currently looking outside of his home for recreational activities. He and his wife, who are rarely seen in public together, were married hastily after news of their pregnancy broke last spring. Ironically, Granger is reportedly godmother to the couple's son.**

**Potter and Granger have a history of an on-again/off-again love affair. Reports of their romance date back to their years at Hogwarts where they lived and schooled together. Although never forthcoming with their relationship, the pair have maintained a tight, close personal relationship for many years. **

**Could this secret affair spell the end of Potter's short-lived marriage?**

It was one of the shortest articles Hermione could ever remember reading, but her blood boiled so thick at the words that she could barely stand it. She didn't even realize that she was crumpling up the newspaper until she felt Ginny jerk it away from her.

"So what have you got to say about it?" Ginny demanded, and Hermione looked up to see a rather angry expression across her friend's face.

"First of all," Hermione started, feeling plenty angry herself, "if that bitch has turned herself into a bug again and is sneaking into my home, I'll get the pest control on her!"

She was speaking, of course, about Rita Skeeter who had been known in the past to turn herself into a beetle and spy on people. That was the only viable explanation of how someone could have an 'eye-witness' account of what went on in the bedroom of a fourth floor flat. Of course, there was always the possibility that the 'eye-witness' was complete bollocks and that someone had simply written made up stories to spread rumors. If that was the case… Hermione realized quickly that she'd just dug her own grave.

Ginny looked about ready to murder her for not having the decency to deny it. Hermione thought quickly about trying to cover it up, but she realized there was no point. She was about to explain, but Ginny launched into attack-mode.

"How could you do this to me? I don't… I don't even understand!"

Hermione couldn't really believe her ears. "Ginny, what are you _talking_ about?" she asked back sharply. "It wasn't like that at all. You _know _it wasn't!" She couldn't even believe she was having to make excuses or explanations at all. Ginny knew perfectly well that nothing like that would ever happen.

So Hermione was shocked to see her eyes suddenly brimming with tears.

"Ginny, I _swear," _she said seriously, wondering how the hell she even got to this point.

But Ginny nodded- just barely, but it was a nod. And then she sat down heavily on the bed with a blank look on her face. Hermione didn't know what was going through her head, but she wasn't expecting the next words. Ginny's voice was dull and void of emotion.

"I don't think he wants to be with me."

Hermione didn't know how she could have possibly heard right. Those weren't words that should come out of Ginny's mouth, but when she looked at her, she could see that there was a real mix of pain and fear there. Hermione as at a complete loss for words, mainly because she had no idea what had brought this on or how to respond to it. Her silence, though, was apparently invitation enough to expand because Ginny kept right on.

"I don't think he's cheating on me, but… He doesn't want me, either." Her voice wavered dangerously, and one of the tears that was welling in her eyes slid down her cheek.

"What would make you say that?" Hermione was beyond confused, but Ginny seemed on the edge of a mental breakdown.

She looked positively miserable and terrified at the words that were coming out of her own mouth. Her voice was strained and forced, and she wiped blindly at the few more tears that fell down her cheeks. "He doesn't touch me," she said quietly. "He's barely home… and when he is, he doesn't want me. It doesn't matter what I do."

"Ginny, he's probably just…" Hermione didn't know exactly where she was going with that, so she finished lamely with, "tired." She didn't know what excuse she was supposed to offer up for that. She didn't exactly feel comfortable getting involved in that situation honestly.

"I know I'm fat now." Ginny rolled her eyes miserably. "But I can't help it. I'm trying."

Ginny, of course, was nowhere even near the _realm _of fat, but Hermione didn't even bother pointing this out. Ginny was actually crying now, and it was about much more than five pounds of baby weight she hadn't yet shed.

"What's really going on?" Hermione looked at Ginny expectantly, but she was just met with silent tears. "Did something happen?"

"He only married me because I was pregnant."

"That's not-"

"Yes, it is." Ginny shook her head and wiped at more tears. "If I never got pregnant, we probably wouldn't even still _be _together."

Now she was bordering on ridiculous. "You were together for years before that, nothing would have changed."

But Ginny simply shrugged a shoulder. "Together for years, and what? He never proposed to me. He barely even mentioned it."

"Ron didn't propose to _me, _either."

"You've lived together since the day you left school." Ginny narrowed her eyes slightly. "That's a pretty big commitment. Harry and I never even lived in the same town."

"It was just a different situation."

Ginny wasn't going to let it go, though. "You never had to wonder. Ron's loved you forever. I _waited _forever, and then Harry dumped me the second things got rough."

Hermione didn't even mention the absurdity of the whole never having to wonder thing, and she didn't know why they were bringing up ancient history. But she felt deep-rooted offense at the statement and didn't waste any time letting her know. "Stop it, Ginny, that's not even fair."

The tears had stopped momentarily, and Ginny fixed her with a rather stony sort of stare. "Look. I know he's your best friend, and I'm just… after that. But please try to think of how that must have felt."

"Why does it even matter? That was years ago, you were sixteen."

But Ginny just shrugged. "So? Just because I was sixteen means I didn't have a right to be upset when my boyfriend dumped me and then ran away with my brother and another girl?"

The words felt like a slap in the face. Hermione had never heard them verbalized, and she didn't immediately know how she was supposed to respond to that. She didn't know what Ginny was insinuating, but she didn't exactly like it, either. "I never wanted Harry," she said slowly and firmly, trying to keep her face from descending into the glare it wanted to form.

"I didn't say you did."

"Then what a_re _you saying?"

Ginny looked away for a moment and then finally back. "I'm saying you don't understand. I _love _him."

"He loves you."

"Why?" Ginny was descending back into misery. That much was evident from her voice tone, even though the tears were over. "Because I had his baby? Because he's _supposed _to love me? Because that's how it was all supposed to turn out? You and Ron, me and him? One big happy family, happily ever after and a whole bunch of other bullshit that doesn't exist?"

Hermione stared at her, absolutely shocked at what she was hearing. "Why are you telling me this and not him?"

"Because he doesn't know." Ginny said it as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "He thinks everything is fine. He thinks he's just doing what he has to do."

"Then why isn't that enough for you?"

Ginny didn't answer at first. In fact, she was quiet for several moments, as though she were pondering her response and checking to see if it was alright. Hermione knew why when she finally answered. She spoke slowly and carefully, obviously wary of her answer. "If I never got pregnant… I'd still have a career. And we'd both have our own lives… And we'd probably see each other more than we do now." Her eyes fell to the floor, almost as though she were ashamed that she'd all but admitted she somewhat regretted her new family life. "And we'd probably be happier."

"I don't even know what to say to that."

"I know it's awful." Ginny was all but muttering now. "But it's the truth. Harry might actually still _want _me."

"You're being ridiculous."

"I've never been with anyone else," Ginny continued to speak quietly. "But he used to make me feel so _special. _Now he barely even _looks _at me…"

She knew that she was about to piss Ginny off royally, but she didn't much care anymore. "You have a child," she said flatly. "That should be your main focus- not your sex life or lack thereof."

She expected Ginny to snap at her and say something hateful, but she didn't. Instead, she just looked ashamed. She obviously knew what she was saying was horrible. "I just don't want to lose him." Her voice was little more than a whisper. She met Hermione's eye warily, her own eyes watering again. "I can't lose him."

Hermione sort of wanted to slap her for being completely irrational, but there was a part of her that felt intensely sympathetic, too. She didn't know what was really going on to make Ginny so insecure, but she could tell that whatever it was was really, truly bothering her. Ginny looked scared to death, and Hermione didn't know what to say to her. There had been moments over the years when she'd doubted her own boyfriend's affections, though those times were admittedly few and far between. She knew how terrible it was, though, and she felt bad that Ginny was experiencing that so early in her wedding.

Thinking of that, though, made her think of Ron. Up until that very moment, she hadn't considered the fact that he was hundreds of miles away and would likely read the very same newspaper article. She was a little scared of his reaction. He trusted her, or at least he _should, _but Ron was kind of insecurities. Those traits were made even worse when Harry was involved. She hoped that he knew she would never, ever cheat on him- with anyone, much less his best friend. But she had a horrible feeling that Ron would find simply having a laugh over the article difficult.

It made her head hurt.

What also made her head hurt was the fact that Ginny was crying again. She'd dropped her face into her hands, and her shoulders were shaking with silent tears. Hermione reached out a hand and placed it gently against Ginny's back.

"You won't lose him," she said quietly. "He loves you."

Ginny seemed less than certain.

A/N: Thank you all for reading and for reviewing the last chapter. For those who asked, yes, I think we will probably be seeing Rose again soon enough! (She's my pet after all….)


	44. Counter Confessions

**BACK TO THE BEGINNING**

**Chapter 44**

**COUNTER CONFESSIONS**

…

As cut off from society as the Auror Academy occasionally felt, they were still able to keep up with day to day news via _The Daily Prophet, _which was delivered to each bunk daily. While Ron had never been a huge fan of reading the newspaper before, it was one of the few links to the outside world that they were provided, and he found himself happy to read the paper each morning. He never got it first, though, as he certainly wasn't the earliest riser in his bunk. They had to wake up early enough as it was, he wasn't going to get up even sooner just to have first dibs on the paper. He could still get the news just as well at breakfast as he could any other time.

Sometimes, though, when news was especially interesting, the early readers of the paper just couldn't keep it to themselves. So it was no surprised when the first words he heard upon waking were, "Your girlfriend's cheating on you." Well, the words _were _a surprise, obviously, but the fact that they weren't kept secret were not.

Jason Ellengder handed him the paper, and he saw the article straight away. It was hard to miss, being front page and all. Ron read the story quickly and didn't immediately have a reaction.

But he didn't actually believe it for even a second.

Still, he felt a mix of emotions- the most prevalent of which were anger and embarrassment. He was angry that someone was taking time to write such idiotic stories. He was also angry that he was apparently so inconsequential that the journalist didn't even feel the need to state that Hermione was engaged to be married in little more than a month. Angry, too, at the fact that while his sister was at least mentioned, her name wasn't important enough to state- angry that her entire existence had suddenly been reduced to "Harry Potter's wife." But he was embarrassed, too, because while he knew it was untrue, a good number of people who read it would believe it, and they would look at him the same way his bunkmates were currently looking at him- as though he were some sort of fool to be pitied.

"They always write shit like this," he said, shrugging as disinterestedly as possible and struggling to make his voice sound uncaring. "They're just trying to sell papers."

If anyone was shocked by his nonchalant attitude, they didn't show it. They just kept right on looking at him as if he was some sort of idiot- the sort of idiot whose fiancé cheats on him with his best friend while he works himself to death hundreds of miles away so that he can _maybe _one day buy her something nice.

"Hope so, mate," Jason said, shrugging carelessly as he reached to take the paper back. "But that's why you've got to be careful with birds- that's how they are. When they aren't getting what they need, they just go somewhere else to get it."

Something inside of Ron snapped at that. He wasn't really sure what made him react so harshly except for the fact that he'd never been entirely successful at keeping his emotions in check when people insulted Hermione. And insinuating that she was some sort of cheating whore quite the insult.

"If you know what's good for you, you'll shut the fuck up," he said dangerously, standing up and shoving Jason so hard that he stumbled backwards and fell onto the empty cot behind him.

Ron went off to the showers after that, and no one mentioned the article at all after that. Not to his face anyway. He heard a few people whispering about it- both about the article itself and the fact that he'd all but threatened one of his bunkmates over it earlier. Ron didn't care if they whispered behind his back. It made him a little angry, of course, but he'd grown up enough to know that whispers were a part of his life now. No matter what, somebody would always have something to say, and oftentimes, those things would never make it to his face.

He didn't worry about whether or not the story was true, though. If Harry _was _leaving the flat early in the morning, there would be a perfectly logical explanation as to why. Neither he nor Hermione would do that, and if either of them _were _to cheat, it certainly wouldn't be with each other. He knew enough by now to know that would never, ever happen. It was because of that personal knowledge that he was able to ignore most of the whispers for the rest of the day. As long as no one else came up to his face making suggestions about Hermione, he would be fine.

Speaking of Hermione, he received a letter from her later that same evening. It calmed what little fear he had left. The story was, in fact, true- at least the part where Harry spent the night. But they'd just fallen asleep while they were supposed to be working. It was all innocent and non-scandalous. Just as he'd known it would be. She sounded upset in the letter, though, and he imagined that she was probably extremely embarrassed herself. She'd been used to those sort of rumors when they were younger, but it had been a long time since anyone had printed anything linking her to Harry in that way. He expected that she was probably assuming she was going to catch plenty of shit at work, and he thought about how awful that would be for her when she was already so miserable in her department. He wanted to hold her and whisper to her that everything would be alright, but that was a bit difficult when he was so far away.

He had to wait more than a week before he was finally able to see her.

It was the last of his breaks before finishing up his training. It wasn't even a full break, either- just two days. The rest of the time spent at the training camp would be focused solely on final exams and all the physical testing required to complete the training. He wasn't exactly looking forward to all of that, but as soon as it was over, he could go home for good. And he w_as _looking forward to _that._

It was hard to believe that nearly an entire year had passed. In some ways it felt much longer than that- there were days that felt like years all in themselves. In other ways, though, time seemed to have flown. A lot had happened in that year. Weddings and engagements and babies… It all seemed so grown up. In a lot of ways, he didn't feel old enough to be so grown up. He still felt like a kid half the time, so it was strange to think of all the utterly _adult _things that were happening. He sort of wished time would just slow down a little bit.

When he arrived home, the flat was empty. Well, that wasn't entirely true- Crookshanks was there, and he didn't seem at all too thrilled to have Ron back. The feeling was rather mutual, and Ron didn't even feel stupid when he mimicked the cat and threw his nose into the air. He checked the time, knowing that Hermione would be home soon. It was time for her to be off work, and she knew he was coming home. He decided to start dinner for them, thinking that surprising her would be a nice way to start the short holiday. After all, this was the last time he'd be home for a break. The next time he was here, he'd only be two weeks away from a wedding.

He was right in predicting that she wouldn't dawdle at work. She showed up just fifteen minutes later, immediately throwing her arms around him. She smelled like the city, and he wondered if she'd spent an abnormal amount of time outside or something. He didn't care. Even the smell of London felt like home to him. It felt more familiar to him than the tent he'd been calling home for the last eleven months, and he knew it much better than he knew any of the people he'd been sharing said tent with. It surprised him that he hadn't actually formed friendships with more than a couple of people in the whole year he'd been away.

But none of that mattered at the moment.

When she loosened her grip around his neck, she was apologizing for something she hadn't done. He barely heard her. He wasn't sure what exactly had suddenly come over him, but he felt a really intense sort of need for her. Not that that was entirely unusual, but it was the really desperate primal sort of need that was usually only accompanied by copious amounts of alcohol.

He didn't hear the words she was saying, but they were cut off pretty quickly anyway when he kissed her. He didn't give her a chance to even notice what was happening before he grabbed her waist and pulled her to him. He kissed her tightly, and it only took a second or two before she figured it out and kissed him back. He felt her hands move to each side of his hair as she pulled his head down to an easier height for her. She seemed to forget that she was right in the middle of telling something, and he didn't remind her

Her lips tasted like chocolate.

That was the first thing he noticed- her lips tasted like chocolate, and she smelled like the city. Neither of those things were very common, but he couldn't say that he hated either one of them. Her mouth tasted like chocolate, too. He found that out a second later when she leaned further up into the kiss and opened her mouth just enough to give him perfect access. He was honestly surprised she was so eagerly into it. Not that she wasn't usually into it, but she was generally slower than that. She wasn't normally the super desperate kind of sort- not since they were teenagers and were being ruled by major pent up hormones. But now that she was older and more mature and in better control of her hormones, she tended to like things slowly. She liked slow and gentle and romantic. Nearly always.

Today was not one of those days, though, and he was surprised when she pushed her weight forward just enough to knock him backwards into the kitchen counter. She didn't let up on the kissing, either, and he felt her fingers wind even more tightly into his hair. It was so hot that he almost didn't mind the awful crick he as getting in his neck. Almost.

He pulled up just a bit, though it was enough to break the kiss. She looked up at him curiously, and he could tell she was already out of breath. Her eyes seemed abnormally dark, especially against the paleness of her skin. Apparently she and the sun weren't great friends this summer.

"Hi," she said quietly, almost shyly. He didn't know why, but he found it incredibly sexy.

"You're in a good mood," he observed, eyeing her carefully for any indication as to what was causing said mood. The answer came in the form of two words.

"You're home."

He didn't really have time to ask her what else as contributing to said good mood because she stood up on her tiptoes and pulled him back down for another kiss. Her fingertips dug into the side of his head, but he couldn't really concentrate on anything except for the fact that she had him in the most awkward position known to man. Without thinking about it, he lifted her by the waist and spun them around until she was seated on the kitchen counter, making them a bit more equal in height.

"I didn't do anything," she said seriously, resting both hands on his shoulders as she looked at him. "That whole thing was a bunch of crap, I swear."

He didn't know why she felt the need to keep apologizing or making excuses. He didn't believe it for a second, and he told her so. "I know you didn't."

She looked a little bit sad or distracted. "I'm pretty sure your mother thinks I'm trying to break both the hearts of her two youngest kids."

He doubted this was true, but whatever. He just shook his head and covered her mouth with his hand. "Don't talk about my mum right now," he said lowly, moving back in to place his lips right under her ear. She kissed the palm that was still covering her mouth, and he let his hand fall around to her back.

He knew exactly where she liked to be kissed, and the way she tilted her chin up just as he brushed his lips behind her ear confirmed this. For once, he was glad that her hair was up. It made things much easier when he was going for this angle. She moved her head so that she could kiss him again, but it was hard to get to her when her knees were in the way. He gently pushed against one to make a little bit of room, and she got the picture. It was difficult, though, with the way her skirt was cut, but he didn't mind one bit when she lifted her hips just enough to give her skirt enough room to ride straight up her thighs.

She scooted closer to the edge of the counter to be closer to him, and her fingers played with the hair at the back of his neck and then dipped under the collar of his shirt. All the while, she continued to kiss him with some sort of desperate purpose. He didn't really know what had got into her, but he certainly wasn't going to complain or anything. This months apart thing really sucked, and this was really the only part that made it worth it.

He was standing in between her legs snogging her good and proper in his kitchen just like he should be allowed to do every day of his life, and the heel of her foot was doing something crazy to the back of his knee. She was the one who actually started undressing herself, which was definitely a rarity but not one that he hated. She didn't even break the kiss as she started working the buttons at the front of her shirt, moving them out of their holes and untucking her shirt from the top of her skirt.

Without thinking, he pushed her hands aside, finishing up the last of the buttons and leaning them both until her head hit the cupboard behind her. If it hurt, she didn't make any sign of it- she just pulled his mouth even more tightly against hers and bent her knees in a way that sort of locked him in a circle. He balanced himself with his hands placed on either side of her hips, and he didn't even notice that she was now trying to undress _him _until she was yanking on the back of his shirt impatiently. She had it completely untucked but was obviously having issues getting it off from their current position. He helped her out, and the shirt fell somewhere to the floor. On any other occasion, she would cringe at the idea of anything littering her kitchen floor.

"You're a bit impatient," he muttered when the kiss broke temporarily. He didn't even have to look at her to know that she was rolling her eyes. He did, though, and he was pleased with what he saw. Her lips were just a tad bit swollen, and her eyes were even darker. Her button-up shirt was wide open, and her chest was heaving just slightly, as she was growing short of breath.

She didn't say anything when he pushed the shirt off of her shoulders, nor did she condemn him when he dropped it carelessly onto the floor beside his own. Her skirt was bunched up over her hips, and her hair was coming lose from its pins. She'd gone from completely put together business woman to half-naked randy girl in a matter of minutes, and he thought it was amazing.

"I missed you," she said seriously, sitting up and pushing some of the loose curls away from her face. "Like every single second."

He wanted to tell her the same thing, but his brain wasn't really functioning at that capacity at the moment. It was functioning more on the level of the fact that it'd been way too long since he'd had sex and that there was a beautiful topless girl right in front of him. It didn't matter, though, because she obviously didn't care whether he had a verbal response or not. Her hands were on his shoulders and sliding down his arms as her lips slid down his neck and across his chest. He kept one hand trained at the small of her back but let his other one sneak around to rest on her thigh and then slowly slide a little higher beneath the skirt.

If she noticed at all, she certainly didn't care. In fact, her legs opened up just a bit more seemingly out of instinct. He wanted to kiss her again so badly, so he grabbed her chin in his free hand and lifted her mouth back up to a more viable position.

She was more proactive than ever this time, kissing him so thoroughly that he briefly wondered if he might stop breathing. He figured if he was going to die, this was as good a way as any. Probably the best, in fact. He noticed that she must have kicked off her shoes when the cool skin of her barefoot came into contact with his lower back. She was literally trying to pull him closer with her feet, and he kind of loved it.

He moved back to her ear, and if he thought she was trying to pull him closer before, he was underestimating. She literally grabbed his shoulders and pulled him forward at the same time she slid nearly to the edge of the counter. He could barely form coherent thoughts with the way her fingers were digging into his shoulders. She, though, could apparently still form coherent thoughts at the same time she was wrapping her legs around his waist.

"We need to talk," she said breathlessly, moving her head just slightly so that she could effectively break contact and apparently get her wits about her.

He wasn't going to lie and say that he was thrilled with her proposition that they "talk." That phrase rarely meant anything good in his experience, and he didn't see how they could possibly have anything to talk about that was more important than what they were currently engaged in.

"We can talk later," he mumbled, moving back in to kiss her and hopefully distract her. It worked for about five seconds.

"No," she said breathlessly, breaking it again. "I need… I want to explain."

"Oh, who cares?" he said seriously. "It doesn't matter."

"Why do you trust me so much?"

Her question caught him off-guard. He thought at first that she must be crazy, but he could tell by looking at her that she was serious and that she wanted a serious answer. He wanted to get back to what they were previously up to, so he answered her with the simplest, yet truest, reply he could manage.

"Because I know you."

He thought that would do the trick and expected to see her smiling at him with two rows of perfect little teeth, but that wasn't what he got. She looked less than thrilled, and while he didn't think her reaction had anything directly to do with his answer, it still didn't make him feel great.

"Everyone at work believes it," she said quietly, glancing down at her lap. "I think the whole world believes it."

"Fuck them," he said, completely serious. "Who the fuck cares what anyone else thinks?"

He said fuck two times within the course of one answer, and she didn't even flinch. That probably wasn't a good sign.

"I would never do that to you." She looked up again, and he was distracted by the way she still had the look of being halfway _had. _"Not ever, no matter what."

"I know," he said, and because it was the truth, he didn't feel the need to say anything else. She stared at him for a really long moment until he finally just gave up and went for it. "Now can I _please _take you to bed? Or you just want to do it here?"

She laughed, and he thought that was a step in the right direction. She reached behind her head to let the rest of her curls loose and then shrugged.

"I don't care. It's up to you."

That's what he liked to hear.

…..

A/N: Thanks for reading!


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